


Hermione Mendonica and the Third Moon + 3rd Summer

by HornedSerpentNine



Series: Veela's Omen Chronicles [4]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alfā/Gamma/Delta + Epsilon Dynamics, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-02 08:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HornedSerpentNine/pseuds/HornedSerpentNine
Summary: Year Three of Hogwarts; if there's one being who can keep track of her outrageous number of time loops, it's Hermione!





	1. Timing Is Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any Harry Potter, nor do I own any lore I found in the Wiki pages/Pottermore.  
My wonderful Beta is Rencae!  
Also, I use Google Translate,  
Also-Also, I attempt to upload on/around Saturday (Eastern Coast time)  
Also-3x, all comments and suggestions are welcome! (I always reply back!)  
Also-4x, I have a VOC Companion series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580833)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is now the proud and crafty owner of one Time Turner!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG if any of you dear readers want a Time Turner, I highly recommend: Noble Collection - Harry Potter - Hermione's Time Turner https://www.amazon.com/dp/B000BVYQAI/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_tai_TmNHDb8SVZGTW  
I have one, and it's so nifty.

Hermione comes to to the feeling the caress of Hogwarts’ magic sliding over her face. She’s in the Hospital Wing, the curtains closed around her. She tries to move, but her body is stiff. Looking down, she blinks, seeing a layer of ice crystallized along her skin, coating her tanned skin with a blue tint.

Eros slithers onto her chest, trying to prod a piece of chocolate against her lips.

‡_Thisss makesss the cold go away,_‡ he hisses, so she eats, warmth spreading through her. Err’sh preens her hair, fluffed around her head. Mrs. Norris lies across her legs, one eye open at her.

··You’rrre lucky that you surrrvived the Demmmentorrr’s touch,·· she meows softly, stretching out further. Hermione shivers at the word, Eto’s many lessons on the dark creatures surfacing.

‡_Harry wasss affected harssshly; he thought he wasss back in the Chamber,_‡ Eros hisses. Hermione burns her Cursed Fire inside her body, and the crystals finally melt off.

‡_What happened to the Dementorsss?_‡ She hisses softly.

*Your light banished them away,* Err’sh whistles softly.

··But they’rrre still herrre to guard Hogwarrrts borderrrs,·· Mrs. Norris yawns, rolling onto her back. Hermione stiffens at the news.

‡_You ssshould eat, you’ll feel better,_‡ Eros hisses, helping her sit up. She winces at her stiff muscles, carefully stretching out. Mrs. Norris shakes herself, hopping to the floor.

··I’ll see you later Errrrr’sh,·· she purrs, sashaying away.

* * *

Walking slowly towards the Great Hall, Eros coiled around her, and Err’sh on her shoulders, she’s stopped by Professor McGonagall.

“What are you doing out of bed? Never mind, we have matters to discuss about your schedule,” the Beta woman says in one breath, whisking Hermione off to her office. Standing in front of her desk, Professor McGonagall she produces a necklace. Hermione’s eyes widen. It’s a Time-Turner.

Made entirely out of gold, two rings surround an inner disk that’s punctured with star-shaped holds andincases a small hourglass, the golden sands glittering. Knobs at the sides connect the rings together, and more importantly, to activate its magic. An extremely long chain made of fine gold links attach to the top ring. Professor McGonagall notices Hermione’s intense stare.

“The Ministry deemed you fit to use one of their Time-Turners to make all your classes, but—” her sharp tone takes Hermione’s eyes of the priceless object to the Professor’s.

“There are severe rules to follow,” Hermione nods to show she understands.

“Good. Firstly, you must never be seen, with the exception of your present class and Professor. Also, the staff has been notified of your new possession. Secondly, you must never reveal that you have it to anyone, thing, or beast. Thirdly, you must only use the Time-Turner for purely academic purposes. And fourthly, you will not under any circumstances tamper with the nature and or magic of the Time-Turner.

“Failure to do so shall result in its confiscation, Ministry investigation, and a possible suspension or expulsion from Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall says coldly, her eyes serious.

“Do you understand?”

“I do, Professor,” Hermione answers truthfully, and she’s given the Time-Turner. Looking closer at it, she realizes there’s a poem on the two rings:

_I mark the hours, every one,_

_Nor have I yet outrun the Sun._

_My use and value, unto you,_

_Are gauged by what you have to do._

Walking out of the office, Hermione smirks to herself. Professor McGonagall never specified what Hermione views as an academic purpose.

* * *

Hermione enters the Great Hall at the end of the Welcome Feast silently, her Time-Turner safety hidden under her clothes with _Tearful Joy_ and _Madisntic’s Necklace_. Lingering near the back, she listens to Dumbledore explain the Dementors are here for protection against Black. Also that Remus is becoming the DADA Professor, and Professor Snape is glaring hell into the Werewolf.

Her eyes rove over the Hall, checking up on her pack. Harry looks the worse, but her eyes stop when she lands on a new Slytherin First year. Roseanne looks a bit uncomfortable sitting without Peter—whose speaking animatedly to Taziah—but her face still has a hopeful look.

“I am also pleased to announce that Beta Rubeus Hagrid will be filling in for Professor Alpha Kettleburn for Care of Magical Creatures!” Dumbledore says jollily, and there’s a thunder of applause from mainly the Gryffindor table, as many if not all the Slytherins scowl. Hermione included. Eros flicks his tongue, looking in Astoria’s direction.

‡_Your Sssroosss-Sssroosssasss [Brood-Sister] sssmellsss sssad,_‡ he hisses worryingly, surprising her.

‡_I sssupossse ssshe isss. Perhapsss after dinner you can __fulfill your Sssroosss-Sssroosssesss [Brood-Brother] obligations and comfort her,_‡ she hisses, and Eros flicks his tongue happily at her words, nuzzling her neck. She leaves to her dorm before Dumbledore finishes his speech.

* * *

Daphne, Pansy, Beta Tracey, and Millicent all glomp Hermione as soon as they enter the dorm. Smiling, and waving off their concerns, she assures them she’s perfectly healthy, Daphne giving her a questioning look in response. As her dormmates go to sleep, Hermione starts to outline how she will attend all her classes. The schedule has seven day rotating six-class-per-day cycle, the second always a double and the rest normal.

Drawing an outline, she lists the classes A through F Blocks. Then she jots down her classes next to each one, adding slashes for classes during the same Blocks on different days.

_Breakfast(1hr) — 7:00am_

_A Block(1hr) — 8:00-9:00am ~ Div./Ari._

_B Block(2hr)— 9:05-10:45am ~ Tra./M.S_

_Break(30mins) — 10:45-11:15am_

_C Block(1hr) — 11:15-12:15am ~ Her./C.o.M.C._

_Lunch(1hr) — 12:15-1:15pm_

_D Block(1hr) — 1:15-2:15pm ~ Cha./H.o.M._

_E Block(1hr) — 2:20-3:20pm ~ Pot./A.R_

_F Block(1hr) — 3:25-4:15pm ~ D.A.t.D.A./Ast._

_Dinner(1hr) — 4:15-5:15pm_

_Extracurriculars(3.40hrs) — 5:15-8:55pm_

_Curfew — 9:00pm_

Sitting back, Hermione commits it to memory, and with a blink of her eyes, she sets it on fire.

* * *

Her succession from King-in-waiting to King of Slytherin is a rather quiet affair. Hermione wasn’t physically crowned, but the weight of the responsibility settles on her steadily. The shift of power is subtle, the more noticeable change is the lack of slurs and slights towards Muggles and Muggleborns.

Many of the Slytherins remember Draco’s discipline and of course they all want to become part of her Court as well. Currently, she’s sitting in the North Tower for the first class of the day, Hermione feels like she’s in a crappy Muggle charlatan’s lair, glad she left Eros and Err’sh in her dorm. The Professor herself is an odd Beta. She spouts the syllabus in a dramatic voice, with small predictions and warnings to the rest of the class. Sitting next to Neville, she scowls at Professor Trelawney when she warns him of his grandmother feeling unwell.

They’re going to cover tea readings first semester, then palmistry. Hermione covers her snort, Neville smiling weakly with her. The whole class is a load of Hippogriff dung, hardly anyone nowadays has the Sight, and even then, there isn’t a set way to learn it. She’s really only here for her transcript looks. Sure, she can fake predictions, as can anyone with any observation and sleuthing skills.

When Professor Trelawney dramatically predicts Hermione’s death, the class goes still. She shrugs, but Neville sends her a worried look. After interpreting Neville’s teacup, and he hers, the bell rings. Hermione waits until the last student leaves, hunkering behind a clothed table. Not taking any chances, she _Disillusions_ herself.

Taking out her Time-Turner, she turns it twice. Her surroundings blur, her body floating in the whirl of time, her body suspended as she flies backwards, suddenly everything comes back into focus. She’s standing in her dorm, morphing into a serpent when the bathroom door opens.

A second later she mentally smacks herself at her fright. No one can see her anyway. She watches as her past self gets ready for the day, leaving with the other girls down for an early breakfast. Eros leans his head down from the bed, staring at her.

‡_Thisss isss weird,_‡ he hisses. She slithers out from under the bed, morphing back but not canceling her spell. Err’sh is gone. She remembers she left the window open so that he could visit Mrs. Norris.

‡_It’sss only temporary,_‡ she hisses back.

‡_Sssee you later,_‡ she hisses, walking out to find the Arithmancy classroom.

* * *

Professor Alpha Vector is tied for the level of strictness in her classroom. Overall, the class is not that large, only three girls in her year are in the class filled with upperclassmen. Coincidentally, all three sit near Hermione. There’s Omega Silvi Avery, Beta Reen Holfred—both Gryffindors, and then Beta Meghan Jones, a Hufflepuff. Professor Vector starts with the syllabus, then proceeds to test them on how much they already know about her subject.

By the end of the two hours, Hermione’s respect for the Alpha grows, and she leaves the class content. Hurrying down to grab a quick snack from the Great Hall, she spies Roseanne looking at her. When they lock gazes, the girl blinks, casting hers down a bit. Swiping a croissant, she wanders down to Hagrid’s Hut, along the way formulating the terminology of using a Time-Turner to keep herself from going insane.

Hermione herself will always be her Present-Self, in which her current perception of herself is living. Then Her Past-Self, where the perception of herself has yet to catch up to her Present-Self. And finally, her Future-Self, where the perceptions of her Present, and Past-Selves can affect where any perception of Hermione will be in time and place. This just means that she’ll have to always be aware where any perception of herself will go and do.

After all, any time loop Hermione will find herself in will be stable. Since while her Present-Self goes about, her Future-Self will have already set in motion activities for that Hermione’s Past-Self, and that her Present-Self will in turn realize what she must do.

Arriving at her first Care of Magical Creatures class with Hagrid just makes her want to use the Time-Turner to convince Hagrid that his “joke” about biting books is not appreciated by any Slytherin or Gryffindor. Although her Future-Self might of already did that and Hagrid carried on anyway. When Hermione produces her docile and open book, Hagrid awards Slytherin five points, and then proceeds to tell the rest of them how to open it.

Leading the grumbling students to a paddock in the spacier part of the Dark Forest, where a herd of Hippogriffs are tethered to the fence. The Gryffindors ooh and ahh, while the Slytherins merely admire silently. As Hagrid explains how Hippogriffs behave, she, Draco, Daphne, and Beta Tracey step closer to the fence.

One Hippogriff raises her head, its hiss of warning dropping when it sees her. Trotting up to the fence, the rest of the students back away as the Hippogriff nods its head at her. So Hermione’s Future-Self has already turned time to meet with this creature. She nods her head back, and the female Hippogriff croons.

The male next to her raises his head, but then goes back to eating in the trough. Hermione slips through the fence, stroking the Hippogriff’s head and neck, feeling powerful muscles under the layers of feathers.

*Will you preen me, Chick?* The Hippogriff caws, startling the students nearest to them. Hermione does, stuffing her pockets with the feathers.

*How are you faring?* She trills, the beast appraising her.

*Well enough, although the Half-Giant put me in Buckbeak’s rope instead of mine,* the Hippogriff huffs. Burnclaw, the male next to her, raises his head.

*Burnclaw is just mad that the Half-Giant likes me better,* he caws.

“—Oh! Yer bowed ter her did you—” Hagrid comes over. She eyes his approach, both Hippogriffs rising their heads high and hissing. Hagrid ignores this, and strides forwards, Buckbeak tugging at the rope around his neck.

“Well don’t yer want to ride ’er?” Hagrid says excitedly, raising his hands awkwardly as if to lift her up on the tall creature. She catches Burnclaw make a gesture with her eyes akin to a human eye-roll.

*Let’s fly together Chick,* she chirps, kneeling. Hermione takes the rope off, and Buckbeak stamps his feet.

*I want to fly as well!* He caws, but he turns to face Harry approaching him. Vaulting onto Burnclaw’s back, Hermione swiftly pulls the rope off him too, and they both launch into the air. Holding tight with her legs, her hands buried in thick, neck feathers, a grin breaks on Hermione’s face.

Buckbeak screeches as he frolics in the air besides them, an ecstatic Harry astride his back. They fly high, soaring around Hogwarts, dipping and weaving around the towers and buildings. Exhilaration fills her, and she laughs, whooping, urging Burnclaw into sharper turns, more daring flight paths. Buckbeak following right behind.

*Enjoying the ride, Chick?* Burnclaw trills.

*Yes!* Hermione caws, trying to get some air into her lungs. Burnclaw nods, then wheels around, flying at a breakneck pace towards the Black Lake. Skimming low, Hermione looks down to see Merfolk racing them. She waves down at them, a few waving back. Buckbeak and Harry veer off, on a race of their own.

Burnclaw pulls up, flying back to the paddock, diving at the crowd of students and inciting panicked yells before landing smoothly. Hermione’s still chuckling, high on adrenaline. Running a hand through her windblown hair, she straightens as Burnclaw calls for Buckbeak. Slides off the Hippogriff, Hermione bounces on her feet, ready to go again.

“Brilliant flying! Ten points ter Slytherin!” Hermione turns to Burnclaw, bowing, passing Draco as he bows to a landing Buckbeak. Heading over to Daphne and Beta Tracey, she combs the snarls out of her hair with her fingers. Both Beta’s stare at her from their spot under a tree. Daphne looks away, her face pink.

“Was it fun?” Beta Tracey asks, and Hermione nods.

“Totally, you should do it,” she says, but the Beta raises her hands whilst shaking her head.

“Nope, Daphne here can take my place,” the other Beta whips her head around, eyes wide.

“Absolutely not!” Is her shrill reply. Hermione leans against the tree, smirking down at Daphne.

“Don’t worry, if we ride together, I won’t let you fall.”

The Beta ducks her head, huffing.

* * *

That night in the dungeons, in her dorm, Hermione relaxes, all the time loops over for the day. She’s swamped with homework, and just wants to sleep. Eros hisses wordlessly, opening his eyes, and points with his tail at the out-of-time-and-space organized stack of completed homework. Realizing what Hermione’s Future-Self has done—what she will do now as her Present-Self—she takes out her Time-Turner.

Gathering all her Present-Self homework, she winks at Eros and Err’sh before _Disillusioning_ herself. Turning the knob the full five times, Hermione reappears in the halls in daylight. Hurrying towards her dorm, she shuts it, seeing Eros rise his head from her bed. Recently, he’s been feeling lethargic, and prefers to sleep most of the time. Err’sh is still out.

‡_You are back early, Sssueensss-Ssspeaker-King [Queen-Speaker-King], or are you a later versssion?_‡ He hisses, slithering towards her. She strokes his head, he flicking his tongue at her. Settling at her desk, she begins to write. Three hours later, she’s finished, and stretches.

‡_When my Past-Ssself comesss, warn me will you?_‡ Hermione hisses, and he nods. Straightening the stack of homework, she morphs into a tortoiseshell cat. Jumping off the chair, she crawls under her bed, curling up in the darkness for a two hour power nap. Eros’ hiss wakes her, and she freezes when she hears her Past-Self walk around.

Another few minutes, and the scent of herself disappears. Crawling out from under the bed, she morphs back into her regular form, she gets ready for bed, stretching lethargically. She’s now feeling the lingering attributes of the creature she’s just morphed into.

Her sleepy thoughts suspect the Skull Hookah has something to do with that, and she falls promptly fast asleep.

* * *

As the school progresses, Hermione falls into a rhythm. Time-Turning an hour or two during the day, and once for the full five hours before bed. And also the guilty abuse of small time travel between classes to indulge in more personal venues. Such as doing a little light reading in the Restricted Section of the Library, romping in the Dark Forest in her soul form, visiting the Elves in the Kitchens, and the like.

With all her classes, Hermione doesn’t see much of her friends, but she makes time—literally—to accompany them in their outings.

“Blimey Hermione, aren’t you usually studying all the time or something?” Ron says once when they’re outside. Harry wacks him, causing the Beta to yelp. Neville shifts in his place, looking at her curiously.

“Don’t be rude mate,” Harry sighs, and Hermione snickers. Harold merely rolls his eyes, going back to his reading. Really, all her friends have been commenting about it, in Daphne’s case, more subtly.

“**I think I can grow to like this,**” the Beta muses in French as they lounge in the Library at the same time Hermione’s Past-Self is out on the grounds with Harry, Ron, Neville, and Harold. Astoria’s lying in Hermione’s lap, dozing.

“**Well I know someone who likes it more than you,**” she teases. Daphne snorts, looking down at Astoria.

“**Please, I don’t need to lie practically draped over your front to like your newfound constant company,**” she scoffs, looking away. Hermione smirks, playing with Astoria’s hair. She catches a whiff of Daphne’s heightened scent.

“**Whatever you say.**”

* * *

Leaving Potions class a little annoyed at Draco’s constant insistence that Harry—as the current Head of House Potter—should track down Sirius Black, who was sighted near Scotland. It’s a legitimate pester, if Harry wasn’t a school student.

“If _my_ family wass attacked, _I’d_ avenge my Housse againsst the sslight,” Draco whispers to Harry, trying to be considerate but it’s only making the Gryffindor Alpha pissed off. Now having turned time, Hermione hurries to her Ancient Runes class. At once, she knows she loves the class, as she carves runes into a wooden block. When it’s over, Hermione makes her way back to the stairs to her DADA class.

“Where’d you go?” Draco asks bewildered, looking at her as she climbs the steps two at a time.

“Nowhere Draco,” Hermione dismisses. Daphne looks back at her, and shrugs at Draco. He has Vincent and Gregory by his side again. As soon as they enter the class with the Gryffindors, Professor Lupin leads them to the staffroom with just their wands. In the empty room, is a wardrobe.

“Does he need to get new clothes?” Draco drawls, a few Slytherins snickering. As Professor Lupin describes the Boggart hiding in the wardrobe, everyone around her shifts nervously. What is her greatest fear? It’s a piece of knowledge that is a key factor in knowing oneself, and they’re about to show it off to an entire class.

Hermione pulls the members of the pack that are here to the back of the line with her. Professor Lupin calls up a Gryffindor Alpha, Seamus Finnigan. Releasing the Boggart, it turns into Banshee, letting out a shrill scream.

“_R-R-Riddikulus!_” He cries, and the Banshee’s voice is cut off. From Banshee to Mummy, from Mummy to severed hand. The line goes by quickly, and soon it’s her turn as the first of the Slytherins. Taking a step into the Boggart’s range, its slug shape shudders. The shudders keep increasing, thrashing, and in a whirl of magic, the Boggart implodes.

* * *

The room is bathed in black light, eerily shifting shadows coating the walls, and in the center is a little girl. Red lights swim in and out of existence around her. Hermione watches as the child plants her suddenly blood coated hand against something in the air. Glops of blood drip to the floor, pooling.

Hermione’s heart rises in her throat as blood seems to bubble up from the child’s skin, coating her in it. The child merely stares dully, hollowly. A distant, echoing, male maniacal laughter creeps in, and Hermione gasps.

“_Riddikulus_.”

— . —

_Calamaitatis_= Disillusion Charm (Latin: Disillusion) 2x

_Riddikulus_ = Boggart-Banishing Charm 2x


	2. Golden Dandelions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hogsmeade trip gets crashed, and Hermione had an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golden Dandelions is a song by Barns Courtney in the album “The Attractions Of Youth”. I like it, and some of ya'll might.
> 
> Also, I dedicate this chapter to this song.  
Also-Also, the ending of this chapter gets pretty heavy . . .

Hermione blinks, the bright sunlight blinding her. The millions of wisps of smoke that’s left of the Boggart float to the floor before disappearing. Before anyone can stop her, she’s out the door, the walls of Hogwarts pressing in on her. The attempt to comfort her only serves to make Hermione even more claustrophobic, and soon, she bursts outside. Taking deep lungfuls of fresh air, she strides down to the Black Lake.

Falling to her knees, she pants, clenching her hands in the mud. Why can she still hear that infernale _screaming?_ Eros appears next to her, wrapping himself tightly around her. Err’sh not too soon after him, landing on her lap. Holding both of them tightly to her chest, Hermione focuses on her breathing.

Footsteps sound behind her, and Roseanne’s scent flutters around her. Her Familiars let her get close, just sitting in close proximity, lending her unsaid support. Distantly, she feels a Dementor, and she sucks in a breath as her fear, her sudden claustrophobia, and any emotion drains away, leaving her with cold numbness. Yet there’s clarity as well; her thoughts untangle and can function again.

She swore she never wanted to feel hollow again, but now she can understand it. Breathing in and out, Hermione settles. Perhaps the Dementors can serve another purpose for her.

* * *

DADA soon becomes everyone’s favorite, while Hermione keeps her judgement. Meanwhile Care of Magical Creatures is a definite low, having to learn and care about Flobberworms. To keep herself from boredom, she finishes the book Hagrid made them buy, then entertains herself by levitating her Flobberworm to “attack” Beta Tracey’s.

In mock horror, the Beta levitates her Flobberworm to retaliate. All too soon, the Slytherins are throwing their Flobberworms at each other to “defend” their House’s honor. Needless to say, they’re the only ones having fun in that class. Outside of school, talk about the first match of the season starts stirring.

However, today’s Halloween, which means its also the first weekend of Hogsmeade. Since she already used the Time-Turner, all caught up on time loops, Hermione’s even more refreshed, and more alert. Handing her permission slip to Professor Snape, she walks out with her cloak and scarf wrapped around her neck; which also conviently conceals and warming Eros.

He sticks his head out just as the Gryffindor Sixth year, Omega Carl Hopkin passes, spooking the Gryffindor. Joining the rest of her Slytherin yearmates, they head down to the village, breaking off into smaller groups. There’s Dervish and Banges, Zonko’s Joke Shop, the Wizarding equipment shop, the Post Office, Honeydukes, and the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione even looks into Hogs Head, a right seedy place with intermix species as its patrons. Walking back, she meets up with the rest of her Housemates at the Three Broomsticks. Draco and his friends come in, squeezing themselves at the girl’s table.

“—I’m jusst ssaying, he lookss really familiar,” Draco says to Theodore. Pansy snorts.

“_Everyone_ here is.”

Beta Tracey leans over Hestia and Flora to get a glimpse of the person in question.

“Him? Oh please, look at him, he’s most likely a begger,” The Beta scoffs, and Draco scowls.

“Yeah? Why don’t you go over and take a better look?” He challenges, and Beta Tracey scoffs again.

“As much as I like the Carrow’s, I’m not climbing over them just to satisfy your needs.” Blaise sniggers.

“How about you Daphne?” Draco says. Daphne shrugs, getting up.

“Sure, I’ll bite, but you’re buying me another Butterbeer,” The Beta says. Hermione narrows her eyes, and she has to slide her hands under her legs to keep from pushing the Beta back down as Daphne awkwardly crawls over her lap. Beta Tracey puts her hand over her lips, struggling to hold in a mad grin.

The Slytherins watch as Daphne sticks close to the walls and behind the man’s view, walking silently in the rowdy establishment. Causally, the Beta walks a few tables in front of him, tilting her head sideways. The man looks up at the same time. Daphne recoils in horror, hurriedly backing up into a table of drunk men.

Hermione’s up and moving before she even realizes it. One of the drunk men leers at Daphne, the Beta still staring at the now standing man. Hermione’s Thrall lashes out at the drunk man, halting his hand just as it was about to touch Daphne’s back. His hazy eyes look up to her.

Sneering, Hermione unleashes her Alfā pheromones on him, and the drunk man whimpers. Wrapping an arm around a still stunned Daphne, she starts to lead her away.

“Hermione—Sirius Black!” Her shrilly cry turns many heads. Someone behind the man yanks back his cowl, revealing the mass murderer himself. Pandemonium erupts, and spell fire breaks out. Cursing under her breath, Hermione drags Daphne through the chaos, flowing with the stream of students rushing out.

Racing up the street, Hermione and Daphne circle around, picking up any stray Slytherins. Looking around, she herds her Housemates, keeping them all in her sight as they make their way back to Hogwarts.

* * *

News of Black’s sightings have everyone on edge. Pushing the Alpha out of her mind, Hermione’s just about to enter the Great Hall for the feast, when Luna appears by her side.

“This way my Liege-Lady, time’s hands are slowing,” The Gamma says dreamily, and Hermione sighs. It looks like she won’t be eating the Halloween feast. Further down the corridor, Harold and Neville are waiting with curious faces. Luna merely smiles at them.

“We’re all ready,” Is all she says before leading to the Library. Instantly, Hermione knows where they’re going. Sneaking into the Mirror of Erised room, Luna pulls off the cloth. The quartet take a step forwards, their reflections coming forth, but this time, they’re Mirror selves are situated on a high dais, light streaming from a giant circular window behind them.

Silhouettes of faceless people prostrating themselves before the two God-like Queens and Kings, and blurry figures standing behind the thrones. There’s a new addition to all their Mirror selves as well. They all move to touch the objects, and a dull roar of approval sing forth.

Mirror Neville unsheathes a gleaming sword, holding it high. Mirror Luna holds a glittering diadem in her hands, fingers tapping it. Mirror Hermione twirls a locket around her fingers. Mirror Harold holds a golden chalice by his side, he raising it as a toast to the crowd.

“Isn’t that the sword from the Sorting Hat?” Neville says.

“Bloody hell, it is!” Harold exclaims.

“The Sword of Godric Gryffindor, only a true Gryffindor of valor and honor may wield it’s magic,” Luna says airily. Neville’s jaw drops.

“Hey Lurch, yours looks familiar too.” Harold points to the Mirror. Looking at it, he’s right. She’s seen that in _Hogwarts, A History._

“Salazar Slytherin’s Locket.” Hermione looks at the other two.

“The lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup.”

“What does this mean? We’re like the Founders then?” Neville asks to no one in particular.

“Never. They were lost in earth and sap, bound to only themselves. We _choose_ this.” Luna supplies helpfully.

“But, why do _we_ see this?” Harold asks, uncertain. Luna shrugs. Hermione places her hand on the Beta’s shoulder.

“It’s best not to dwell on what the Mirror shows, it’s not the future,” She says gently.

“We’ve seen what we must,” Luna whispers. Hermione doesn’t protest when Luna threads her fingers through Hermione’s, all four leaving the room behind.

* * *

Making their way back, a crowd of students cut their path off.

“Mio!” Astoria breaks from the crowd, powering into Hermione with a tight hug. Grunting, she wraps one arm around the young Alpha.

“What’s going on?” Harold asks.

“Sirius Black slashed the Fat Lady trying to get into the Gryffindor tower!” She replies. Neville gasps. Black was there for Harry. Following the tide of students, the whole school converges in the Great Hall, leaving the Head Boy and Girl; Percy and Alpha Penelope Clearwater; in charge.

Dumbledore conjures sleeping bags for everyone, and when he leaves, everyone starts speaking in hushed whispers. Eros appears next to her, causing some of her Housemates to startle. She strokes him as he coils comfortingly around her.

‡_Where’sss Err’sssh?_‡ She hisses softly.

‡_With Mrsss. Norrisss sssearching the groundsss for Black,_‡ He hisses back.

‡_I sssaw him, in Hogsssmeade,_‡ Hermione hisses. She looks around at the rest of the students, seeing that Harry and Ron have chosen sleeping bags next to each other. As far as she knows, James is still in St. Mungos. Surveying the rest of the students, she frowns when Hermione spots Luna all by herself.

Getting up, she passes the unsaid House divisions. The Ravenclaws part for her as she lays her sleeping bag next to Luna’s. The Gamma just smiles. A thump lands next to her, and Astoria flops down next to her. The young Alpha smiles brightly at Hermione, turning to glare at a group of Slytherin First years.

Daphne and Beta Tracey are not far behind, the former ignoring everyone with a cold mask of indifference. Not too soon, Ginny joins Luna’s other side, the two sharing a smile. Checking on the rest of her pack, Hermione spots Roseanne joining her brother and Taziah in the Hufflepuff section. Harold, Harry, Ron, and Neville settle down between sections, inviting Draco and his friends over.

The rest of Slytherin seem to take this as permission to intermingle with the rest of the Houses, much to many of the Gryffindor’s shock. Grinning to herself, Hermione gets ready for bed, snuggling into Eros’ coils. The other girls around her snuggle closer, some blond hair falls on her face. Yawning, Hermione closes her eyes, glad she finished her homework early.

* * *

During the night, Hermione wakes up briefly only to realize she’s under a pile of bodies. Half asleep, she shuffles towards fresh air. Yawning, Hermione curls around Err’sh, falling back asleep. The next morning comes too quickly, and Hermione stirs to the sound of giggles. Pushing blond hair out of her face, she stretches on her sleeping bag.

And feels a body pressing up against her front. The giggles get louder. Opening her eyes, Hermione stares into Daphne’s, her brilliant grass-green eyes dilated and her face flushed a deep red. Smirking, Hermione gives her Beta a wink, laughing when Daphne scrambles to her feet.

Looking at her pack, she rolls her eyes when she sees Beta Tracey and Draco snickering madly. Throughout the day, Black is all everyone talks about, with a lot of glances at Harry. His fellow Gryffindors keep a careful watch over him, and even the Professors start to check up on the Alpha.

Harry’s never alone anytime Hermione sees him. Beta Tracey informs her that the Fat Lady’s portrait is removed, replaced with the worn portrait of Sir Cadogan with his chubby grey pony. Word of his nonsense passwords, and the constant changing of them irk the Gryffindors, making them irritable to be around.

Harry himself always tries to lose his tail in the form of Percy. Hermione suspects Molly ordered him to watch Harry from afar. All of this new action makes her Time-Turner schedule all out of whack, which in turn makes her life difficult. Even though her loops are stable, it’s still a hassle for her Present-Self to deal with, and then to realize what she needs to do for her Future-Self.

Hermione has to constantly dodge new people who shouldn’t be in certain places at said times. Yet as always, talk of Quidditch brings back the Hogwarts spirit, and for some reason or another, everyone seems to think she’s an expert in it. She swallowed a Snitch instead of catching it; that in Hermione’s book marks her as less than Quidditch competent.

Marcus comes around, asking her opinion about different practice drills. He wants to throw the Gryffindors off their game early.

“Why don’t you just ask Professor Snape to switch out Slytherin with Hufflepuff? This up coming weather would be a good excuse. They’ve been training to counter our tactics, and won’t have enough time to practice against the Puffs,” Hermione suggests, and Marcus grins.

“That’s brilliant! I humbly thank you King-in-waiting!” He crows, racing off. She knows that Gryffindors are known for their Seekers and Beaters, whereas Hufflepuff relies on their Chasers and Keeper strengths. Totally unlike Slytherin, whom specialize in their Beaters, but all use ruthless, brute strength.

Turning time to her DADA class, she casts a curious look at Professor Snape, whose standing in front of the class. Looking out the window, she can see the full moon in the blue sky. Professor Snape disregards Professor Lupin’s past classes, ordering the class to to turn to page three-hundred-ninety-four in his signature drawl.

Werewolves. Hermione tilts her head, realizing he’s trying to out Professor Lupin.

“Can anyone tell me the differences between a true wolf and a werewolf?” His eyes rake over the students, landing on her.

“Miss Mendonica.”

“Werewolves can be easily distinguished from regular wolves by their shorter snout, more human-like eyes, the tufted tail, and their mindless hunting of humans whilst in wolf form. They will target humans exclusively and poses very little danger to any other creature. Genuine wolves are not very aggressive, a wolf is unlikely to attack a human except under exceptional circumstances.” Hermione recites, and Professor Snape nods, pleased.

“Twelve points to Slytherin.” The rest of the lesson goes like this, the Gryffindors’ mood turning sour whenever they fail to come up with an answer, points ducting like rain, while Hermione earns them as water fills a jar. Professor Snape ends class with homework on how to kill werewolves, his black eyes boring into Hermione’s.

She blinks once, tilting her chin down, and he blinks back.

* * *

Walking into the Library, Hermione sits with Luna in their corner reading in comfortable silence. Time flies, and Hermione blinks, checking the time. They’re _way_ past curfew, and dawn only hours away. Luna is already half asleep on her shoulder, and her candle is burnt low.

“Luna, you should go to your tower,” Hermione whispers, but the Gamma merely shakes her head. Rubbing her eyes, she smiles.

“I promise, I’ll go up when I’m need to,” She says whimsically. Hermione sighs, but nods, leaving Luna to stare at the candle.

* * *

Hermione wakes up screaming as a heavy weight slams into her, flashes of a broken dream piercing her mind. Her heart is pinched tight, and she lets out a chilling howl. Wind and rain pelt around her as she searches for something. Sounds whip around her, but she continues to wail.

Thoughts and images slip through her fingers, and she realizes she can’t even remember her own name. Her Thrall, usually kept in check, is going haywire, lashing out at everything, including herself. Her body’s pumping out primal pheromones, thickening the air with their cold, terror and pain.

Writhing, fire consumes her body, spiraling out from her heart through her veins. Then bursting through her skin. Her voice hitches up higher. It’s a never ending cycle, her Thrall and Cursed Fire pushing, and pushing, and _pushing_ at her magic. Her soul. She hears words, but can’t understand them, only the urgent, pleading soft undertone.

Slowly, an infinity later, she becomes of her ragged breathes, her haze of black fading back to purple. Blinking, hot fury pulses through her, and she roars, attacking the closest prey. It’s screams join hers as she holds it down, releasing her Cursed Fire to ravage along weak flesh.

But her prey doesn’t burn.

Her Cursed Fire and Thrall recognizes the prey. She shakes her head, trying to dislodge the lingering purple. Her Cursed Fire diminishes to just her arms, the flames licking her cheeks.

“H-H-Hermione?” A shaky, fear stained voice croaks. That’s her name . . . Isn‘t it? She jerks back, still straddling the Beta—her _friend_. Hermione‘s Cursed Fire extinguishes, and her Thrall wraps tight around her. Daphne stares up at her weakly, curled up and staring at her, fear pheromones blasting at her. The Beta curls clutches her right hand to her chest, the skin blackened and charred.

Hermione can’t breath, and tears form in her eyes. She starts to shake, ignoring the raging storm around them. Her Thrall envelops Daphne, the Beta flinching at it’s touch. Hermione closes her eyes, leaning forwards so their foreheads touch. Her wet hair frames around Daphne’s face, filmy grass-green eyes filled with unspilled tears still staring.

Hermione’s tears drop down onto Daphne’s face, rolling over her skin.

Her Thrall weaves through Daphne’s magic, healing over the burnt hand, quickening the skin and muscle reparations. All the while, taking that pain onto herself, her own hand receiving the damage. Letting out a low, mournful sound, Hermione shudders, her limb fluctuating between pain and peace.

Stiffly, she crawls off Daphne, looking around. A part of the room is blown away, cutting into the grounds. Their dorm was one of the few that was half underground, so water from the storm pours in, mud covering the walls. The door is locked, caving dangerously like a battering ram had a go at it. She sniffs, smelling terror lingering from all where her dormmates were.

Daphne sucks in a shuttering breath. Guilt floods Hermione, and she turns away, her gaze landing on her bed. Painfully, her muscles aching, she stands, stumbling to touch the cold corpse on her bed. A loud keening fills the room, louder than the storm pouring into the dorm.

Hermione begins to cry. Sobbing silently, she tries to remember what brought her to this. As soon as the tears come, they go, she leaping to her trunk, digging through carelessly as she pulls out her Skull Hookah from it’s secret compartment. It showed her something before, maybe it can do it again.

. . . _Use me . . . And see . . . Use me . . ._

Quickly, Hermione inhales deeply. The top of the skull glows yellow in a snap, the huge amount of the sharp bitter cold makes her cry out. Doubling in on herself, her body turns numb, the rain and winds from the outside heightening the feeling. It hurts, so, so, so much. Then she unfurls, great plumes of yellow smoke pouring out of her mouth.

Dimly, she hears Daphne whimper. The kickback of such intense heat makes Hermione moan, she falling to her side, to lethargic to move. But then the images appear. Staggering to her knees, Hermione watches raptly.

* * *

_The images jolt into a sharp clarity, as if shaken awake. The view snaps down to a sleeping form, then back up again. The images raise up, panning the dark room. Four other forms rest in their beds. A storm pounds above them. Something bounces off the images, Hermione catching sight of a naked tail. The images start to whirl, trying to dislodge the thing above._

_A serpent’s tongue flicks out, and she hears furious hissing. But then the thing jumps away, springing off the images. Suddenly a low growl makes the images turn towards it. The images rise higher, swaying as a large, mangy, black dog enters the dorm. Black eyes stare with hatred at the images, lips pulling back to reveal yellow fangs._

_A loud, warning hiss sounds, and something shifting under the images. The images start swaying more, the hissing growing louder. That’s when the beast lunges forwards, the images rearing forwards to meet it. The snarls and hissing ends just as quickly as it starts, the pained snarl and blood arcs. But The scream of pain from the images sounds._

_The images start to grow blurry, shaky, but thick fur fills the images. Hermione watches in horror as fur turns to skin, and suddenly the images shot with white and fractured, and then slumping. The blurry images fading, fixed on the angry face of a man—_

* * *

Hermione stares in disbelief where her Eros lies on her bed, the yellow smoke disappearing. Vaguely, she remembers hiding her Skull Hookah again. Falling against her bed, she doesn’t register Daphne and Beta Tracey holding her. Hermione just stares at Eros’ mangled pieces of his stiffening, lifeless body.

Her heart spasms, and she clutches her chest, and the pure agony of a Familiar bond shredded tears itself from her throat can be heard all the way past Hogsmeade.


	3. Unconventional Inconsistency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna does some intervening for Hermione, and the latter goes on a wild soul searching ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still heavy on the feels in the beginning . . .

She doesn’t want to feel. She’s raw, too emotional to think straight. Hermione cries silently when she thinks she hears Eros speaking to her, whispering. She can feel Err’sh taking her pain through their bond, and she holds it tight, grasping onto it as her lifeline. Hermione catches a glimpse of him through his eyes, tracking the fleeing Animagus through the Dark Forest.

She feels too much . . . Her emotions are overwhelming her . . . She can’t think right . . . Hermione’s mind can’t even handle itself. Letting out a mournful sigh, she morphs. The shape doesn’t matter as much as the attributes; limbs and hooks to pull herself out the window; eye sockets to see; holes for ears.

Crawling through grass in her ever shifting form, Hermione’s insides feel empty. Perhaps she is. She slides over the land to the Black Lake, her sludge-like substance slowly morphing back to her solid body. Rain pounds down on her.

That’s when she feels it. The Dementors. Sighing in relief, Hermione lets them feed on her from afar, taking all that she is and leaving a husk. An emotionless shell. Stretching out, she smiles blithely, her mind empty again. With a clear slate, Hermione thinks over what she saw through Eros’ eyes.

That dog Animagus, that _SiRiuS oRiON blAcK kILleD HEr FAmiLiAR_. It’s a curious paradox to know she’s raging—screaming even—and yet not worry about her emotions. The moment she sees Black, she’ll kill him. Simple as that. A good plan that the numbnesshelped make. It keeps her grounded.

Sane, and not the raging fire creature she was. Err’sh lands by her head, shielding Hermione from the storm. She rolls over, oddly enjoying the feeling of seasoned wood and rain clinging to her body. Further away, a Quidditch game begins, the players darting about. Watching it, she frowns when she sees the Dementors converging on the Pitch.

Screams of terror start, as the Dementors feed. Err’sh croaks, pointing to a falling player from the skies.

_pAcK._

Rolling onto feet, Hermione stands, hands flinging out. Her magic builds inside her, delving into the very same emotion that she felt on Hogwarts Express. Breathing deeply, she lets out a howl as a blinding light bursts from her palm, the force knocking Hermione backwards. Lake water surrounds her, and she surfaces, blinking up at a brilliant white creature.

Smiling weakly, Hermione grips her chest, her fingers slipping on metal, and she succumbs under the water.

* * *

Harold can’t feel himself when the Dementors arrive. The game was so hard to track, but he knew his House was winning. Cheering when Hufflepuff scores, he jumps to his feet with his House. That’s when the cold came, the mist clinging to him. Harold’s cheer dies in his throat, as despair sweeps over him.

Screams start up as the Dementors fly over the Pitch. Harold sits frozen, his worst memories flashing before his eyes. Suddenly he remembers finding Lurch on the floor of the Hogwarts Express, skin blue and icicles frosting her skin. Hermione! Where was she? Harold knows the Dementors heavily affected her, just like Harry.

He looks up to the skies, crying out when he sees the falling Seeker. Dumbledore is roaring something, raising his wand at Harry. Suddenly, an _explosion_ of magic and light cascades into the Pitch, shaking its very foundations. It breaks the clouds of rain, and throws students and staff alike against their seats.

It tosses the Dementors through the air like rag dolls. There’s a moment of complete silence, as rays of dreary sunlight strain through the clouds. Then a furious _roar_ shatters the silence. Leaping over the stands, a humongous brilliant white, smokey four-headed winged beast appears.

The Dementors take one look at it and disperse as if evicted from a premise, screaming in rage. Warmth creeps back into Harold’s bones, as the creature passes, wonder and joy filling him. The beast swipes one of its limbs, catching Harry in its palm. It swoops towards the grass floor, depositing the Alpha, then soaring back up.

The Dementors look small compared to the thing, as it chases them off, breathing silvery-white plumes of fire. One Dementor isn’t so lucky, and it screams as the beast swallows it whole. Another blast of white makes Harold cry out. Blinking, Harold looks back up, seeing the Dementor, his jaw dropping.

Its black cloak is mostly gone, showing a sickly dark mass resembling a ribcage. It weakly tries to fly away, but the winged beast shoots it with a blast of silvery-white fire. It screams as it’s consumed, nothing left after. Dead silence is left, as the winged beast looks towards the Black Lake, its form siphoning back towards its origins.

Harold looks towards that direction, and runs through stands.

* * *

Five hours earlier . . .

* * *

Luna stares at the barely flickering candle. It’s puddle of wax underneath threatens to extinguish it’s light. Already the wick is at a severe tilt, a young Heliopath dancing sluggishly inside the flame. Then it winks out ominously, and Luna’s skin prickles. Closing her eyes sadly, she turns to her right.

Her Alfā had just left, but she was; muddy and waterlogged. Her Liege-Lady’s eyes are closed. Her skin deathly pale. Luna stands, silver eyes gazing upon that peaceful face. There are no Nargles around her now. She gathers her unconscious Liege-Lady in her arms, scanning for the slight imprint of a hidden device.

Sighing, Luna gently places her hands on her Liege-Lady’s frozen arms, stroking to warm them. Taking out her wand, she casts the _Hot-Air Charm_, and the icy bite fades to natural warmth. Eyes move behind closed eyelids, and they open to reveal hazy amber-brown eyes. Luna looks down at her Liege-Lady smiling comfortingly.

“Luna?” her Liege-Lady croaks, coughing up some water. Luna leans in to hug her confused Liege-Lady, letting her presence sooth her Alfā.

“Where’s Err’sh? Why am I here?” her Liege-Lady mumbles, still not quite recovered.

“I think you should be asking _when_ are you here,” Luna says dreamily, her Liege-Lady rearing away from her. Narrowing those anguished filled eyes, lethal sharp are barred at her. Alfā pheromones leak out, prickling at Luna’s skin furiously. But she just waits patiently as herLiege-Lady struggles to put her mind back together.

“You knew what was going to happen,” Comes the low hiss. Luna takes the burning glare in and smiles calmingly in her way.

“No, I simply knew to stay.” She says simply. Her Liege-Lady relaxes, scenting and sensing the truth of her words. Luna stands, holding out her hand.

“You permitted the soul eater to feed from your own,” Luna murmurs as her Liege-Lady takes her hand.

“Yes,” Her Alfā murmurs.

“Don’t. Whatever you must do in this life, don’t willingly give yourself up to those things.” Luna says sharply, making sure her Liege-Lady understands.

“Come my Liege-Lady, there are less soulless ways to achieve serenity,” Luna says dreamily, pumping out her own Gamma pheromones around her Alfā as she is leading them out the Library.

* * *

It’s only moderately raining, the storm still on the rise. Hermione lets herself be led to the Dark Forest, Luna skipping in the muddy grass. How the Gamma knew that she had to stay, Hermione may never know. But she’s glad that Luna did. They head down to the Hippogriff’s paddock, Burnclaw rising her head at their approach. Hermione and Luna bow, Burnclaw acknowledging it.

*Chick! What happened?* Burnclaw squawks in distress, and Hermione’s body convulses. Her emotions are returning. Luna unhooks Burnclaw, and guides Hermione over to a bed of feathers. Hermione sags against it, bone weary. Burnclaw immediately hops onto it, curling protectively around her.

Luna watches as Hermione falls asleep, snuggled up against the Hippogriff. The winds blow, and she closes her eyes. Listening. Faintly, she hears it, whispers on the wind of Hogwarts to her ears of ancient magic.

* * *

Hermione wearily cracks open an eye. Warm sunlight shines down in front of her shelter, warmth surrounding her. She blinks, lifting her head a bit, wincing. The warmth around her rumbles, and she looks up to see Burnclaw purring. The Hippogriff nuzzles Hermione’s cheek.

*Feeling better, Chick?” Burnclaw trills, licking Hermione’s forehead.

*No,* Hermione tweets back, gasping when her chest flares in pain when she tries to move. Burnclaws clacks sharply, lifting her wing covering Hermione.

“Try not to move my Liege-Lady, you’re still weak from your broken bond.” Luna says above her. Burnclaw presses some moss closer to Hermione’s body, tucking her wing in again.

“Broken bond?” Hermione mumbles hazily, already growing tired.

“Your Familiar was ripped from you in the most gruesome ways. Your bond is in critical damage,” Luna says gently.

“I have food.” The Gamma is holding two platters. A dead ferret on one, and a simple broth on the other. Slowly uncurling, Hermione coughs up blood when her chest spikes with pain. Burnclaw jerkily unfolds her wing over her, devouring the ferret. Sitting up, Hermione keeps herself in a tight ball.

Luna smiles, joining her in Burnclaw’s nest as the Hippogriff stands up.

*I’ll be back, Chick,* Burnclaw chitters, trotting away. Drinking the soup slowly, Luna just sits next to her, humming her tune.

“How long has it been?” Hermione rasps.

“Thirty-six hours. The soul eaters were banished to their domain, waiting for their return. Funny wizards and witches with badges have taken their place, inspecting under every leaf.” Luna says dreamily, and Hermione coughs out a chuckle, whipping the specks of blood from her lips.

“There’s something wrong with me,” Hermione murmurs to herself. Luna shrugs.

“What is a wrong? Is my right denouncing yours, therefore making it wrong? Perception is life, or is it life is temporary and pride is forever?” Luna rambles airily. Hermione laughs a little. Luna leans against her, stilling her unintentional shivering.

“Eto once said something similar,” She says.

“Did she? The Centaurs always say interesting things,” Luna continues.

“The Centaurs?”

“They’re going to see through you, my Liege-Lady. It’s not healthy for your Wrackaspurts to live in broken bonds.” Luna says dreamily.

“I, what?”

Luna doesn’t answer her, but waves at someone behind Hermione. She looks over her shoulder to where Firenze appears. He bows at her, and easily lifts her into his arms. Hermione’s already starting to doze off, but she witnesses Firenze nodding to Luna before they gallop away.

* * *

§Quick Firenze, place her here,§ Ronan says. Hermione opens her eyes, seeing she’s in the center of a ring of trees. Centaurs circle outside the ring, curious. Firenze settles Hermione down on a thick bed of Dittany, and she sighs in relief as the plants soothe her pain. Firenze and Bane begin to light incense, picking up a a twine with a thatch shaped into a ball at the end.

Walking in circles, the thatch catches on fire, smoldering, the natural smoke adding to the incense. Ronan is kneeling behind her head, chanting in Starwan.

§Offspring Under Mars’ Light of the Dark Forest, let the stars guide your dreams, and heal what has been lost,§ Ronan murmurs, Firenze and Bane begin repeating the chant. Their chants soon meld together, over and over, and Hermione feels her sense of self, simply . . . Float away.

* * *

_She’s flying in a sea of endless grey, magic. Her wings methodically pump up and down, propelling her to the unknown. She’s never been more aware of her movements, for the thick magic glides across her skin sensually, possessively. She belongs to this olde magic, and it purrs about her, carrying her along._

_A vibration pulses above her, and she slowly rises up, the olde magic waning to a bright, weightlessness. The change is subtle, and she glides on magic soaked wings higher. Lighter magic swirls through her flesh, singing to her soul. Closing her eyes, a woman is formed in front of her. She’s beautiful, so much so that’s its a struggle to look at her directly, but the Veela does._

Who are you? _The Veela asks, and the woman smiles, holding out her hands. The Veela takes them slowly, and she suddenly blinks away a wave of dizziness. Their surroundings swirl, but like a fogged window, the Veela can not see through it. The woman looks up, and so does the Veela. A intricate web of golden silk-like threads of magic weave._

_They descend around the Veela and the woman, ever shifting, and never ending. The threads fill their entire surroundings, seeping into the olde magic. When a thread latches into her heart, the Veela gasps. It’s too hot, burning, scorching her skin._

And listen,_ The woman whispers lovingly, directing the Veela to a writhing cord, its end shriveled, threading, and black. Already, some of it is thinner, black threads, whipping around and straining to poison the other cords._

Magick is coming, _The woman whispers, and the Veela tentativly reaches out to touch them when she speaks again._

It shall devour, _The Veela freezes, a breath away from the shimmering Bonds, their heat rolling off in waves._

Power of Olde, _The woman says softly, mournfully, and the light starts to get brighter. The Veela jerks, her mouth opening as thousands of threads spear through her chest. The woman hovers her hand over the broken bond, smiling comfortingly._

Magick is coming, _The woman whispers, combing her fingers through the broken strands. A searing pain blooming in the Veela’s chest, her cry swallowed by the olde magic. When the woman pulls back, the ends are all clumped together, but the Veela can feel it won’t last forever. The Bond wants to be _free_._

It shall devour, _the woman smiles sadly at her, gathering the Veela tightly to her._

Power of Olde, _the woman says, her voice starting to sound familiar to the Veela._

Wait! Who are you?! _The Veela pleads, but the woman pulls away, fading back to olde magic._

Magick is coming, _the woman’s voice hisses around her, and she snaps open her eyes. Screaming the Veela thrashes in the golden web, roaring as almost every part of her body is ensnared._

* * *

She’s floating next to another, a shifting gold, silver, and other innumerable other shimmery colors flow around her. She’s in a Bond—hers. Hermione shakes her head, dimly remembering the Crossroads and the one who directs it. The Other sits across from her, a teacup and a saucer in her hands. She looks very familiar.

She sips from hers, her white, amber-flecked eyes look up at Hermione.

“I almost didn’t catch you there. Tea? It’s hard black with a dash of red pepper, just the way you like it.” Hermione looks down at her hands, seeing a filled teacup and a saucer.

“Thank you, it’s quite delicious.” Hermione replies, taking a sip of the exilent taste. The Other’s right, it is her favorite now. The Other, watching her with speculative eyes.

“So I am the one it seems, and here I thought it was my sister,” The Other muses. Hermione looks around them, the landscape constantly shifting from one thing to another.

“How are you doing all of this?” Hermione asks, unsure why she is. She takes another sip of the wonderful tea. The Other smiles melancholily.

“First time was a real shocker—got stuck for a week unable to get back, and when I did, not a single second had passed,” She replies in a non-answer, shrugging.

“You always said everything is just a point of perspective,” The Other continues. Hermione hums, her but eyes transfixed by a shifting of the colors around them, almost as if . . . The lines of the Bond itself is rippling.

The Other sets her teacup on it’s saucer, and let it go, the porcelain pulled away like sand in the wind.

“All timelines move in synchronism, and you’ve made a lot from yours.” The Other says, placing her hands on her legs. Hermione pauses, and takes her last sip of tea before letting her teacup and saucer wash away.

“Mine? I thought . . . I thought I wasn’t making any time inconsistencies,” Hermione sounds unsure even to herself, but the Other shakes her head.

“Nay, you are living in just one of many worlds that have been molded out of the Ancient Olde Magick’s core, and it shall not be the last.” They feel another ripple, this one bigger.

“Who’s that? Is something bad going to happen to her?” They both turn to look up at the still body of a Veela in a forest, frozen in realtime. The Other shrugs.

“She is Hermione. I suppose the inevitable is going to occur as it will; Time will flow again.” She answers cryptically. Hermione frowns.

“But, _I’m_ Hermione,” She stresses. The Other chuckles.

“That you are, and so is she,” The Other looks up at the Veela. “The you _here_, is merely the part of Hermione that I wish to speak to.” Hermione tilts her head, slightly confused.

“There’re parts of me don’t you want to speak to?” The Other smiles brightly at this.

“Now that’s a better question. Ask another,”

“What do you want to speak about to me?”

The Other looks off to the side, pulling a snake-shaped scone from the gold threads around them.

“Scone?”

“Thank you,” Hermione takes it, eating, feeling better as she does. She never knew how cold it was until the scone filled her belly.

“In truth, this Time has no need of you here anymore, you’ve served your piece, and now you must move on.” Hermione feels another ripple, this one bigger than the last.

“I’m the dead part of Hermione, aren’t I?” Hermione looks down, seeing her arms and legs are gone, black jagged rips for the stumps. The Other tilts her head up, eyes strong. She tilts her head, as if puzzled by Hermione’s statement.

“The Ancient Olde Magick loves you too much to free you from it’s embrace. As this Time reluctantly rejects your presence, that Space greedily hordes it.” Hermione suddenly has her arms back, but they’re still black.

“Aren’t they the same in one?” She asks. The Other smiles serenely.

“Yea, and nay. They are the same entity of divine worship, and yet they are as fickle and callous as a newborn choosing their favorite toys.” A final, heart pounding ripple cascades out, and Hermione scrambles to her feet—her legs back as well. The Other stands perfectly straight, the ripples passing right through her.

She crosses the distance between them, and takes Hermione’s hands. They’re the same height.

“Hermione, I want to tell you how proud I am to see you, and what you make of this Time,” The Other hugs her tight. Leaning back, she appraises Hermione.

“See?” She holds up Hermione’s hands, completely black free. Hermione looks down at her legs. Blackless as well.

“I always have faith in you.” They touch foreheads, as Hermione feels the sensation of sinking down, yet she’s sliding away from The Other.

“Hold on! I don’t even know your name!” Hermione hears the Other laugh as she’s pulled farther and faster away.

“Oh Ma, you’ll know my name soon . . .” And everything burns white and gold.

* * *

Hermione gasps, taking in huge lungfuls of air. Sitting up, she groans as her head pounds.

§Here, Dragga, drink,§ Bane whispers, and Hermione inhales the water. Wiping her mouth, she blinks, placing a hand on her chest. The pain isn’t gone, but it’s only a dull echo, a grim reminder. She smirks slightly. Black will get his due.

§I will admit, it was a bit difficult at first, your mind naturally blocked us from sending you to the stars,§ Ronan sighs, standing.

§Like an Occululmens?§ She asks. Firenze shrugs.

§If that is what you wish to call it.§

§Your herdmate has been waiting for you, she’s at the edge of the woods,§ Bane says, taking her in his arms. As he trots, Hermione looks up at the dusk sky. When they approach the edge, Bane sets her down.

§We shall see you soon Dragga,§ He bows, and Hermione bows back.

§Thank you for your assistance.§ He nods, and in a flash he’s gone. Turning, Hermione spots Luna, she walks confidently towards her, enveloping her in a hug. Luna hums her tune.

“By-the-by my Liege-Lady, Lady Greengrass’s been scaring the Nargles away for you.” Luna says dreamily as they walk to the main doors. Traveling through the empty halls, they head towards the Slytherin’s Common Room. Luna bids her goodbye at the portrait, Hermione enters.

At first glance, no one’s there, but she smells them before she sees them. Daphne tackles her to the floor, holding her close whilst she sobs something incoherent. Astoria likewise latches onto her, and the rest of her dorm mates squeeze her tightly in their embrace.Roseanne somehow wriggles her way to Hermione’s side, Astoria growling lightly at the younger Alpha.

— . —

_Æstus Ictu_ = Hot-Air Charm (Latin: Blow Heat)


	4. Craze Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Revols are formed and Hermione gets back into the chaotic Hogwarts rhythm!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the feels are semi-over thanks to Luna!

No one speaks of Hermione’s two day disappearance, and shockingly she isn’t pulled into Dumbledore’s office for interrogation. The Slytherins keep silent about the lack of Eros’ presence, but Hermione lets her Court loose to spread word of her _persona non grata_ on one Sirius Black throughout the school.

Another telling side effect of her disappearance is that her pack bonds merely become stronger, and Daphne hardly leaves her side again. So Hermione ends up divulging her loose Time-Turner secret to the stunned Beta. It seems that the Slytherin House is keeping a careful watch over her, unwilling to lose their King again.

Her Guard, which had fallen lax since the end of last year, restarts anew. However, they’re not the only ones to notice the difference in Hermione. The other Houses make way for her in the corridors, drawn in to her presence. When she speaks, everyone listens with attentive ears, and they watch her longingly.

There are exceptions to this, namely her pack, inner Court members, and closest friends. Harold, Neville, and Luna namely readily accept the new facet to her persona. And, at Luna’s urging, she told Harold and Neville of what happened to her, revealing her Time-Turner.

Resting on her stomach, Hermione watches bemused as the boys pass the Time-Turner between them. They’re in the Mirror of Erised room, having claimed it as their own. Neville carefully passes the device back to her, then speaks.

“This is nice, the four of us.”

“We have always a quartet.” Luna says dreamily.

“I guess that makes sense.” Harold says, and Neville shrugs.

“We should have a name,” Luna says randomly.

“Like a friend group? Hey Nev, got one?” Harold yawns, lying on his back. Neville tilts his head.

“Er, Hogwarts Four?”

“That sounds like we’re here to kill off a revolutionary before it starts.” Harold replies.

“The Revolutionaries.” Luna says wistfully.

“What?” Harold says, sitting up.

“That’s a bit long, Luna.” Neville says.

“Revols.” Hermione cuts in.

“Revols?” Harold asks.

“We’re the Revolutionaries, the Revols for short.” Hermione explains, and the other three nod.

“I like that,” Harold says.

“Me too.” Neville adds, and Luna scoots forwards so they’re in a square. She puts her hand out in the middle. Motioning for Hermione, Harold, and Neville to do as well, they watch as Luna arranges their hands so that each of them are holding onto the other’s wrist next to them, forming a strong square in the middle.

“We are the Revolutionaries of Magic,” Luna starts, her magic pulsating through their joined hands.

“Mystery,” Hermione says, adding her magic.

“Might,” Harold smiles, sending his magic heartily through their skins.

“And Wonder!” Neville chirps, his magic sealing their bond. Harold gives him a droll look.

“_So mote it be!_” Luna says cheerfully, letting go. Hermione feels something stirring in her, when she looks at the other three, a sense of completion.

“We were going with the ‘M’ theme Nev!” Harold chastises, and Neville scratches his head.

“Dunno, it just sounded right.” He shrugs, and Hermione nods.

* * *

The only difference to Hermione’s timetable, is the extra lessons with Professor Snape. She’s to learn how to produce a Patronus, as ordered by Dumbledore. Hermione has a feeling he wants to know and confirm what her Patronus is. In his office, Professor Snape stands in front of his desk, wand out. He’s located another Boggart, and it shakes the trunk it’s confined in.

“Concentrate, and hold your happiest memory you have,” He drawls. Hermione thinks over it; being happy. Both times she’s summoned one, she wasn’t _happy_, but desperate. Someone could be murdering and still be happy. No, she’ll chose another emotion.

“The Charm is _Expecto Patronum_, now cast it.” Professor Snape orders.

“_Expecto Patronum!_” She raises her hand, smokey white light, film emitting from her palm. Professor Snape scowls, but flicks his wand at the trunk. The Boggart leaps out, for a moment threatening to turn into her past fear. Hermione quickly thinks about the Dementors, and so it changes.

Instantly, she feels her happiness being sucked out. Raising her hand, she brings the memory of the train to light. She pulls on her memories.

“_Expecto Patronum!_” A white film shoots from her palm, and Hermione feels a cold chill down her spine as she forces the Dementor back down into the trunk. Taking a deep breath, she dutifully eats the chocolate that Professor Snape hands to her.

“Fifty points to Slytherin.” Hermione nods, thinking over the correct emotion for her. He gives her more chocolate, and calls it a day, and orders her to practice to achieve a corporeal Patronus.

* * *

With Yule approaching, Hermione gets ready to spend her break with her family. The last weekend before she goes is a Hogsmeade trip. Making her way to the entrance of hogwarts alone, Fred and George suddenly appear, herding her under a staircase half in shadows.

“Well this is new,” Hermione drawls, but the twins share shit-eating grins.

“Well, since our favorite Heir—” Fred starts.

“—is always seeking trouble—”

“—we figure it’s time to—”

“—hand over a little investment—”

“—to keep her from getting caught!” The twins finish, giving Hermione a blank piece of parchment. Her eyes widen when she realizes it’s Harry’s Marauder’s Map. George takes out his wand, placing it on the parchment.

“_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._” Ink rises to the surface, and the Map appears.

“I’m amazed really, you two could of destroyed Hogwarts with this.” Hermione looks up at the twin’s mischievous faces.

“We almost did.” They say together.

“Nicked it off of Filch—” George starts.

“—bloody bugger had it in a drawer—”

“—when you’re done using it—”

“—simply tap the Map—”

“—and say _Mischief Managed._” The twins say, Fred tapping the Map. She folds it, stuffing it delicately in under her grey jumper vest. Nodding her thanks to the twins, she leaves.

* * *

Seeing no one in a corridor, Hermione pulls out the Marauder’s Map again, seeing her mini self tap the statue of the witch next to her. Hermione does so, and a little speech bubble pops up.

“_Dissendium_.” The witch’s hump opens up, and she has enough room to quickly insert herself inside the hump. Sliding down in darkness, when she smoothly levels out onto a cold floor. Morphing her eyes to see in the dark, Hermione jogs down the winding passage. She can tell when it finally slopes up, morphing her eyes back.

Pushing open the trapdoor above her carefully, she struggles to slide out. There’s a heavy weight over the trapdoor. Now in a cellar of some kind, Hermione checks the Map, seeing she’s outside its edge. Stuffing it into her pocket, she morphs into a small snake, slithering quickly through when the cellar door opens.

Keeping to the walls, she slithers out of Honeydukes. Out in the cold, she quickly slithers into an alley, morphing back into her regular form. Sniffing the air, she traces the other Revols’ scents to the Three Broomsticks. Scowling at the Dementor patrol notice on the door, Hermione strides towards their table.

“Hermione, where’d you go, we waited!” Harold whines dramatically. Hermione smirks, sitting next to Luna who passes her a tankard of Butterbeer. The conversation turns to Quidditch. Focusing on her drink, she feels her robe pocket buzz. Discreetly takes out the Sneakofind—she having taken to carrying it around—sees the white color. The door opens, and she flicks her eyes up.

Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Madame Sprout, and _Minister Riddle_ walk in. Stilling, she hears Luna whisper, _Mobiliarbus_, and a Christmas tree picks itself up, moving over in front of them, and plops down. Sipping her Butterbeer, Hermione listens, using her heightened Veela hearing to it’s full extent.

The adults sit at another table next to the tree, and the Sneakofind turns blue.

≠ “All righty, a small gillywater, cherry syrup and soda with ice topped with an umbrella, and red currant rum.” ≠ They hear Madam Rosmerta say. Hermione puts a finger to her lips, the other three nodding.

“Lovely, Madam, thank you.” Minister Riddle says in his deep baritone.

“So what brings you here Minister?” Professor Flitwick asks, and Hermione can sense his eyes roaming around.

“Sirius Black.” There’s a silence after his name, and Hermione has to clamp down on her snarl.

“You think Black is still hanging around?” Madam Sprout asks, concerned.

“I am certain of it.” Minister Riddle says with confidence of one stating a well known fact.

“I though they were to be sent back to Azkaban.” Professor McGonagall says tightly.

“Professor, they are here for the student’s safety—”

“Pardon me Minister—but I call bullshit. A student was very nearly Kissed because of those foul creatures!” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice is full of loathing. Harold mouths the name “Harry”.

“Pardon my bluntness Professor, but Black murdered a Head of a powerful and ancient family line in cold blood. The Dementors are here to stop him.” Minister Riddle says firmly. Neville’s jaw drops at the news. James Potter, is dead. Madam Rosmerta comes and serves their drinks, leaving.

“I remember him when he was just a boy, such a mischief maker,” Madam Sprout sighs.

“Don’t forget as an adult, he still is,” Professor McGonagall says remittently.

“Especially with Potter, those two were like brothers!” Professor Flitwick squeaks, drinking his cherry syrup.

“Black was Potter’s Secret Keeper when they had Harry, dark times indeed with the Death Eaters running amok.” Professor McGonagall says somberly, taking a drink. Minister Riddle nods, clasping his hands under his chin.

“Professors, with all due respect, that was not the Black who savagely slaughtered his lifelong school mate and thirteen Muggles.” Minister Riddle says in a dark tone, the table is silent as everyone takes a sip from their drinks.

_And innocent sleeping Familiars,_ Hermione growls mentally.

“So you think he’s broken out to what, go after Harry again? For what?” Madam Sprout asks.

“I don’t perceive to know the inner thinkings of a mass murder, but I _will_ find out.” Minister Riddle says in the finality of a vow. The Revols are silent. Hermione stares into her empty tankard, wondering why Minister Riddle was foolish enough to have such a private conversation out in the open. Unless . . . He _wanted_ to be heard.

* * *

Back in her dorm, all the Slytherins are opening gifts early. Her year mates, Astoria, and a shy Roseanne join her, all wanting Hermione to open her presents right away. She gets loads of weakly cursed objects, candy, books, and other little trinkets from her classmates and other students from other Houses.

Pushing those away, she opens her more personal Yule gifts from her year mates and the pack. To name a few, Luna got her a Runespoor stuffed animal—whom she names Lady Grey and places next to Lady Green on her bed. The Gamma even gives Err’sh a large, magical, dog bone to chip away at.

Harold got her an unbreakable wineglass that also will unspillable once liquid is poured in it. Harry got her a plain, silver mirror, and she raises an eyebrow when no nagging mirror voice shouts out make up advice. She warred with herself about the Marauder’s Map, but ended up sending it back to Harry as a Yule gift.

From Molly, she pulls out a knitted, turtle neck sweater, a deep shade of green with the letter “H” in silver on the front. Shrugging it on over her thin shirt, she finds it’s snug and warm. Draco got her another broom attachment. This one goes on the handle, a clasp that latches onto the wood. On the clasp, is a compass, a big red needle always pointing true north, with other smaller white needles pointing to speed, altitude, longitude, and air pressure data on the sides of the compass face.

Daphne and Astoria’s gifts come together. The young Alpha gives her a whet stone to sharpen the hook on her wand, and the Beta gives her a curious bottle of perfume. Holding up the crescent moon shaped bottle, she tilts it up to the light, it’s red color shimmering. Omega Tracey sniggers.

“Really? It’s as if you think your Queen of Slytherin status was being challenged!” Millicent whacks the Omega’s shoulder. Daphne blushes lightly, but ignores Omega Tracey’s comment.

“It simply accents her own scent, nothing more, nothing less,” The Beta scoffs. Hermione gives Daphne a smile, shakes the bottle a little, then spritzes her neck once. To her, she doesn’t smell all that different, then again, it’s hard to smell her own scent on herself. However, everyone else’s expressions range from shock, envy, and amusement.

Then there’s Beta Tracey, who falls to her rear howling with laughter. Frowning at the mixed reactions, she raises an eyebrow at Daphne. The Beta has an embarrassed blush on her face, and Hermione growls sharply at Beta Tracey. The Beta shuts her mouth with a click instantly. Satisfied, she picks up the last gift. Giving it a sniff, she smells the distinct scent of a Werewolf.

The box is slim, no wrapping, no note. It’s the same box for a broom. Narrowing her eyes, she retires to her dorm with Err’sh, Daphne, Beta Tracey, and Astoria. Waving her hand over it, the box opens.

“What is it?” Astoria asks, clamoring onto Hermione’s lap. She snaps her fingers, the lid rising fully. Both Greengrass sister’s eyes go wide.

“That’s a _Firebolt,_” Daphne breaths. Hermione takes it out, feeling the sleek wood. It’s vibrating, and Hermione let it go. It is hovering right at the perfect mounting height for herself. She’s starting to wonder where Tarow has the gold for her expensive gifts.

“Merlin,” Daphne breaths, standing to get a better look at the broom.

“That’s an international standard broom!” Astoria squeals, Hermione shooting her a playful smirk.

“Can I ride it? Please?!” Astoria pleads, giving her big puppy eyes. Hermione shakes her head, placing the broom back in it’s box.

“I’ll take you for a spin later,”

* * *

Time turning back a few hours, Hermione’s walking outside on the grounds. Luna finds her, linking their arms, and steers them towards Harry and Ron.

“Hermione, Luna! We’re going to see Hagrid, you coming?” Harry pants, and she nods. They trudge towards his door, and when the Half-Giant opens it, his face is bright pink and his large tankard fills his hands.

“So yer came, bless yer hearts,” He hiccups, and they enter the hut.

“What happened?” Ron asks, and Hagrid bursts out sobbing, shoving a letter at Hermione. She reads it out loud.

≠ “_Dear Mr. Hagrid, in concerns to the attack by the Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted Headmaster Dumbledore’s reassurances that you shall not be held responsible. However, due to the severity of the attack by the Hippogriff, and a serious complaint from one Lucius Malfoy, the Committee of the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures will be taking over this case._

_“The trial will be held on April 20th, where you and your Hippogriff shall present yourself to their offices in the Ministry. In the meanwhile, the Hippogriff will remain tethered and kept away from the students and other creatures. Yours in fellowship,_” ≠ She tosses the letter into the fire. Luna pats Hagrid’s arm.

“It’ll be ok Hagrid, you’ll win in the end.” She says dreamily, looking at Hermione. As Harry and Ron try to comfort the Half-Giant, Luna and Hermione hold each other’s gazes. Leaving his hut, Ron starts to rants.

“It’s all Crabbe and Goyle’s fault! I bet they snitched to their dads!” Harry smacks Ron on the shoulder, jerking his head at Hermione.

“Er, sorry Hermione, but your friends are gits.”

Hermione just sighs.

“We could feed him to Fluffy.” Harry snickers, and Ron grins. Hermione frowns, disgruntled about being left out of the joke.

“Fluffy is the Cerberus that Dumbledore forces to guard Hogwarts.” Luna says dreamily, and the boys stare at her, perturbed. Luna shrugs.

“He likes it when people come visit to play with him.”

* * *

All throughout the train ride to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, Hermione resists the urge to check her trunk. It took the combined efforts of Hermione, Luna, and Astoria to coax the Cerberus into her illegally enlarged now-not-so-secret compartment of her trunk with the _Undetectable Extension Charm_.

Unsurprisingly, it was only the incentive of three kilograms of meat that convinced Fluffy to abandon his post. Hermione sneers when she thinks of it. The poor magical beast, barely out of puphood, chained and left alone to “guard” a small room. Astoria keeps glancing at her trunk, a concerned expression on her face.

Fortunately, only she and the Greengass’s are sharing a smaller compartment in the back in silence. Daphne’s somehow completely oblivious to her sister’s unsubtle glances. Thankfully they arrive at the Platform without any incidents, other than Roseanne finding them, and Hermione inviting her in.

Hugging Daphne and Astoria goodbye, and tussling with Roseanne’s hair, she and Err’sh leave them. Walking along the Platform, she looks around for Eto. Her eyes catch one a pair of orange fluff balls instead.

Crookshanks saunters up to her, meowing as he rubs himself against her leg. She crouches, smiling as she scratches him between his ears. His yellow stripes are finally coming in. Shankscrook comes lopping, looking like a tiny tiger with his black stripes, demanding to be pet as well.

Following the brother Familiars, she soon spots Elise. Hermione remembers her being a bit taller than that.

“Goodness Hermione, you’re sprouting!” Elise chuckles, standing on her tip-toes to reach Hermione’s shoulder. Even that’s a stretch. Err’sh in his cage whistles, calling for attention. Elise smiles, leaning down to scratch under his beak.

“All ready to go?” Elise asks, picking up the two Familiars with one arm, and linking her free one with Hermione’s. Side-Apparate out, they reappear at the entrance of the Pole Wing. Instantly, Hermione spots Eto right away, wearing a set of leather garb. Elise frowns at the sight, but doesn’t say anything.

Patting her shoulder, Elise Disapparates. Eto saunters forwards, eyeing Hermione’s new growth.

»We will have to readjust your training, if you wish to continue it?« Eto asks.

»More than ready.« Hermione replies. The rest of Hermione’s break consists of going over the theory of what it takes to be a _**Okhotnik na Tyuleney**_ [_Sealer_] and a _**Pevets**_. [_Singer_.] Between training with Eto, avoiding the Delacour siblings pranks on the House-Elves, and house-training Hades; which is Fluffy’s _real_ name—honestly who names a _Cerberus_ such a demeaning name?—Hermione practices on her Patronus.

After a few tries summoning that feeling—one that’s she understands to be protectiveness—Hermione comes to the conclusion that she simply needs a Dementor to produce a corporeal Patronus. Taking a break, the brilliant white light fades, leaving the darkness of the night stronger.

Looking outside, she sees an almost full moon. Distantly, she wonders where Tarow is, and what the Werewolf is currently doing. And who she accosted to get the gold for a _Firebolt_. An odd vibrating sound breaks her from her revere. Err’sh raises his head from her pillow, whistling softly.

Hermione holds out her hand, the trunk opening and Harry’s mirror flying into her palm. The surface shimmers, and she swears she can see a faint outline of a figure.

“Harry?” She says, blinking when the mirror suddenly shows the Alpha in question.

“Hermione!” Harry says in relief. It must be a Two-Way Mirror.

“We’re helping Hagrid on his case, when, well, Ron swears he saw Black.” Harry whispers close to the mirror. Ron pushes Harry out of the way, grabbing the mirror.

“I did! He was watching us!” He shrieks, his eyes wide.

“There’s always plenty of things watching you, some of them are not all bad,” Hermione hears Luna say dreamily outside the frame.

“Bugger, Pince’s coming!” Ron curses, and the mirror is jerked out of his hands.

“Bye Hermione!” Harry calls, and the mirror goes blank. She blinks, placing the mirror on her bedside table. That conversation was abrupt.

* * *

On the second-to-last night of break, Hermione takes out her _Firebolt_. She’s been hiding it. She just wants something to belong truly to herself without Eto’s knowledge. Opening her window, she mounts it, and flies out. Leaning down, she cuts through the air, the broom responding to her slightest touch. She’ll send her _Nimbus 2001_ to Harold.

Flying high into the night sky, Hermione smiles, diving down and them swooping back up. A whip of black catches her eye, and she spins around. Flying against the dark horizon, are three small specks, sporadically outlined by orange light. Hermione watches, curious as the light flickers in and out—and then nothing.

She blinks, and then flies back to her room.

— . —

_Expecto_ _Patronum_ = Patronus Charm 3x

_Dissendium_ = Secret Passage Opening Charm

_Mobiliarbus_ = Levitation spell

_Capacious_ _extremis_ = Undetectable Extension Charm


	5. Fractures And Predictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's pack is unstable, there's some Quidditch, and Trelawney actually does something semi-useful!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll I have a tight schedule this weekend, so if I don't get the second chapter of my dual update today then assume I'm still getting ready OR I'm at Homecoming!
> 
> Of course the second part will be uploaded tomorrow on the 9/28 East Coast Time!

At Hogwarts, Hermione’s classes seem to have taken a more relaxing feel. The repetition of using the Time-Turner to get in all her classes, studying, and sleeping almost becoming normal. Meanwhile Marcus has taken Quidditch all too personally, he and the team riding off the high of beating Ravenclaw.

Hermione refrains from pointing out that the Ravenclaw Omega Seeker; Cho Chang; is a better Seeker than Draco. If she was undeterred by Bludgers from the last match, she would of caught the Snitch. Now the talk is about the upcoming Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw match. It’s all Harold and Neville can talk about, so much so that she spends more time with her Slytherin yearmates.

At least Luna is indifferent to the whole thing, although Hermione thinks she shows her displeasure of the topic by climbing up Hermione’s body and ignoring the boys. It was right after classes had finished for the day, Hermione, Draco, Daphne, and Astoria lay lazy about under a tree. Astoria yawns, stretching out between Hermione’s legs, dozing. There are a fair amount of students outside as well, when Ron storms out.

“HERMIONE MENDONICA!” Everyone on the grounds turn to the furious Beta, his face purple with rage and clutching a pillowcase. Harry, Neville, and a few more Gryffindors hurry in his wake.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” He roars, throwing a pillowcase at Hermione’s feet. Astoria leaps up, kicking it away.

“Don’t talk to her in that tone!” She growls. Ron sneers at her, shoving her to the side. Astoria recovers quickly, snarling, her body taunt to spring. Hermione stands, throwing out an arm in front of Astoria, who stills herself. Daphne and Draco flank her, scowling at Ron. He swipes his pillowcase back.

“Ron, come on, let’s go,” Harry says, pitching his voice low.

“BUT LOOK AT THIS!” Ron yells, shaking the pillowcase.

“It’s your pillowcase. Harry,” Hermione’s sharp rebuke startles the Alpha.

“At least exercise some restraint with your Beta,” Harry has the decency to look ashamed.

“Mate, stop it, you’re—” Harry starts, but Ron cuts him off.

“_NO_ HARRY! DO YOU SEE THIS? BLOOD! IT’S _BLOOD!_” Ron’s roaring at Hermione, taking a step towards her. Daphne steps closer to her side, Draco growls softly, and Astoria takes a step towards Ron. Poised to attack if signaled.

“Your point, Ronald?” Hermione drawls. Ron’s shaking with rage.

“YOU BIRD’S A MURDERER! IT’S SCABBERS! _IT’S SCABBERS!_” Hermione suddenly understands now, and she softens. She liked Scabbers, the Albino Mouse having a good judge of character.

“Ron, I didn’t do it,” She says gently. Ron screams wordlessly.

“YOUR STUPID, BLOODY BIRD ATE SCABBERS!” Ron throws the pillowcase to the ground, it shredded with slashes and bloody fluff. A few black feathers tangled in the fluff. A moment of still silence ensues across the grounds. Upon hearing wing flaps, they look up to see Err’sh land on Hermione’s shoulders, licking a smear of red off his beak.

* * *

The pack is fractured; the Gryffindors’ unsure of where they stand. Ron refuses to even acknowledge at Hermione, and the whole school can hear him gripping about Scabbers during breakfast the next day. He’s sent away to a Bond Healer by noon. Hermione interrogates Err’sh who swears that he never touched the mouse, as he and Scabbers had an agreement to scratch each other’s backs.

Err’sh would protect him from hungry birds, and Scabbers would lead Err’sh to dead things. Even the Quidditch match couldn’t take her mind off Ron’s pain. Pain she knew all too well. And Hermione knows that he can’t use the Dementors and the Centaurs like she did. Sitting in the Staff Box, she moderates the match, the cheers masking her flat tone when she speaks.

In the end, Gryffindor wins. Walking down from the Pitch, a wind wafts through the skies, and Hermione stops right outside the great front doors. In the distance, she swears, she sees the pale yellow eyes of something watching her.

* * *

Hermione wakes, yawning when she sees her finished homework next to her that she didn’t do last night. Err’sh pecks her gently.

*Morning.* She chirps, yawning.

*Black got into the Gryffindor’s Tower.* She freezes, wide awake.

*What?!* She tries to keep her screech soft. He nods.

*Hedwig told me about it. He got in through the bumbling portrait. Apparently he had a list of all the portrait’s passwords and got right in.*

*What did he do?*

*Apparently he fled after waking up Ron.*

*I bet Professor McGonagall is pissed, who’s stupid enough to . . .* Hermione closes her eyes as she realizes who has the worst memory of all of Hogwarts.

“Oh Neville,” She mutters. At breakfast, she looks over at the Omega, seeing his hunched frame shaking as he stares down at his plate. His Housemates only have glares for him. Daphne shakes her head, sighing. Down the table, Hermione sees Roseanne looking at Neville with pity, unlike the rest of her yearmates.

She also catches Peter narrowing his eyes at that. There’s a lingering tension in the air that none are able to dispel, and it grows when the staff provide extra security to the castle. All the Aurors are in a rage that Black got through them, apparently one Auror went out to take a piss, and got knocked out instead.

The portrait of Sir Whatever His Name is replaced it with one of a gentle looking witch who reportedly asks for decent passwords. Hermione narrows her eyes when Neville gets a Howler from his Gran, only a few upper year Slytherins roaring with laughter.

She grits her teeth at the disrespect her Housemates have for _her_ Omega, who is helping Hagrid with Buckbeak’s case. Her silent glare shut them up quick. All too soon, it’s Hogsmeade time again. Wearing her new sweater from Molly, and her Slytherin scarf, she decides to take Err’sh with her.

She plans to go early, to see if she can sniff out Black. When she nears the gates of Hogwarts into Hogsmeade, Hermione spots an Auror with bubblegum pink hair. Smirking, she saunters up to the oblivious Beta woman, realizing she’s now taller than Tonks.

“Fancy seeing you stranger,” The Beta whips around, her mouth open in surprise. A smile graces her face, and she one arm hugs Hermione.

“Wotcher Hermione! How ya doing?” Tonks laughs.

“I am well, and you?” Tonks’ hair turns magenta.

“It’s great! My shift just ended—say, that’s your Familiar right?” Hermione nods, and Err’sh preens at the attention. Flapping his wings to steady himself, he hops onto her outstretched arm, sniffing Tonks.

*She smells similar to you, Hermione Cage-Breaker,* He trills, launching off her arm.

“Where’s he going?” Tonks asks. Hermione waves her off. She’s not saying that Err’sh is her eyes from above to spot traces of Black.

“He’s a free spirit—care to join me for a stroll in Hogsmeade?” Hermione asks, and Tonks readily accepts. Walking through the village, Hermione and Tonks make small talk, mainly about Tonks’ assignments and Hermione’s year so far.

After walking sometime they are somewhere near Zonkos shop. She notices Tonks’ cheeks are pink from the cold. Lacking a scarf, the Metamorphmagus holds her cloak closer to herself.

“Honestly Tonks, you should dress for the weather,” Hermione drawls, pulling off her Slytherin scarf. Tonks has a look of confusion on her face.

“I can manage—wait—oh!” She stands stock still as Hermione wraps her scarf around the Beta’s neck. Hermione’s own turtleneck sweater is more than enough to keep her warm, so she doesn’t feel the difference. Now Tonks’ face becomes red as heat flushes into her cheeks. Hermione merely smirks at the Beta’s ability to become easily flustered.

They lean against the walls of Zonkos.

“As I recall, I’ve never seen your real hair,” Hermione says offhandedly.

“Really? Uh, hold on,” Tonks says, closing her eyes. The pink recedes into a deep brown almost black, in long curly waves down to her shoulders. Hermione’s eyebrow rise, she seeing a younger, Bellatrix Black for a brief second. Blinking, Tonks morphs her hair back to her signature hairstyle. Suddenly Hermione’s pocket buzzes. Frowning, she pulls out her Sneakofind, the color showing white.

“Is that a Sneakoscope?” Tonks asks, looking down at the thing, her eyes curious.

“No, it’s a Sneakofind.”

“Come again?”

“It’s something the Weasley twins made for me.” Recognition lights up at the last name.

“Oh Fred and George! I knew right away they were going to be trouble.” Hermione nods, smirking a little.

“Although not as worse than I was, did you know about the time I transformed into Snape and taught an entire class?” Hermione blinks, stunned at the audacity and sheer stupidity.

“How are you still alive?”

Tonks looks away, blushing.

“Er, I acquired a solid alibi.” Hermione snorts, and they enter a little shop, browsing through the different scented soaps.

“I presume your alibi included a lover?” Hermione drawls, drumming her fingers on her leg.

“Uh, well—” Both of them whirl around when they hear the shrill screams. Three Slytherins run by, screaming bloody murder. Hermione snickers at the sight of Draco, Vincent, and Gregory yelling about vengeful ghosts.

“Pardon me Tonks, I have to go fix a situation.” Tonks nods, smiling.

“See ya next time Hermione!” They split ways, Hermione heading towards the Shrieking Shack.

* * *

“You two are incorrigible.” Hermione sighs, but Harry laughs.

“You should of seen his face though!”

“I did, and he was headed straight for the castle.”

“Bugger, reckon Snape’ll know about the Cloak?” Ron worries, ignoring Hermione. Neville frowns at that, but then the wind blows.

“I’m not about to tell the Professor,” She says, but Ron just huffs.

“Hey Hermione, why do you smell like . . . Er . . . Strong mint?” Neville asks confused. Harry and Ron look at her, eyes wide.

“I do?” They all look away.

“No.” Harry says hurriedly.

* * *

At lunch, Err’sh comes, dropping another letter in her lap, nibbles on some of Draco’s food, then flaps over the table to over to hop into Astoria’s lap. Ripping the letter open, she reads of Buckbeak’s impending execution on the day the exams will end. She knows that Ron is taking over the case, not wanting Hagrid’s pet to be killed as well.

The Time-Turner is starting to tempt her in ways she knows it shouldn’t. Every time she touches it, the urge to see just how far she can push the object to complete certain tasks arises. But every time, Hermione forces herself to remember while her time loops are stable, she doesn’t want to breach the boundaries of Time.

So she continues on the way she has, using her Time-Turner in all ways academic and to spend more quality time with her friends. It’s easier during the Easter holidays not to cave into that urge, as she doesn’t turn time as much. Come the final Gryffindor vs Slytherin match, that sudden urge to overuse the Time-Turner has settled.

Getting ready to announce the game, she and the rest of the audience wait for the teams to appear. She’s aware of the heightened tension caused by the match, the Slytherins have held onto the Quidditch Cup for nine years so far. The crowd is unevenly spit, three-quarters of the school favors Gryffindor, and the two-hundred rest favors Slytherin.

As the teams appear, both sides start roaring encouragement.

“Welcome to the final Gryffindor vs Slytherin match! Leading team Slytherin is Captain Flint, with Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pucey, Higgs, and Bletchley!” Cheers rise up from the green side.

“Leading team Gryffindors is Captain Wood, with Potter, Weasley and Weasley, Bell, Johnson, and Spinnet!” The cheers start before she finishes announcing the names, drowning out her words. The players rise, and the match begins.

≠ “Gryffindor starts in possession, Alicia has the Quaffle—making a line towards the goals—Adrian intercepts—bulldozing his way across the Pitch—Bludger by Fred!—Quaffle drops—only to be caught by Angelina!—Look at her go!—Adrian snatches it!—he scores!— TEN-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!”

The cheers from the green clad students are deafening. Hermione sees Marcus narrow his eyes, and swoops by the Staff Box, a question in them. Whatever he’s about to do, he doesn’t do it at Hermione head shake. Instead, he makes a very close feint at a whooping Angelina, prompting Fred to chuck his beater bat at Marcus’ head. The boy’s nose breaks when his face slams into his broom handle.

Madam Hooch calls a penalty to Gryffindor for an ≠ “unprovoked attack!” ≠ Terrance lines up to take the shot, shooting a wicked grin at Oliver. He winds his arm back, and throws—except he doesn’t. Oliver swerves to block a Quaffle that never comes, as Terrance keeps spinning on his broom. _Then_ he throws, scoring.

“Terrance scores!—TWENTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!” Hermione yells, impressed with Terrance’s trick. The match starts up again in earnest.

≠ “Gryffindor in possession!—no!—Slytherin in possession!—Gryffindor back in possession! ≠—Katie’s got the Quaffle!—she’s headed up—intercepted,” Hermione grimaces when Adrian flies in front of Angelina, grabbing her head instead of the Quaffle.

“Foul to Slytherin,” She announces, hearing the boos. Alicia takes the penalty and scores.

“TWENTY-TEN TO GRYFFINDOR!” The cheers rise at that. From then on, the match was a sea of penalty after penalty, everyone fouling each other, and the scores racking up. It was getting increasingly harder to remain neutral as she announces—meaning not shout out suggestions for her team—the fouls for both teams. Yet no Snitch.

Thirty-Ten to Slytherin. Thirty-Twenty to Gryffindor. Forty-Twenty to Gryffindor. Fifty-Twenty to Slytherin. Fifty-Thirty to Slytherin. Draco jumps onto Harry’s broom to keep him from catching the Snitch, and penalty goes to Gryffindor. But Alicia misses widely, and then Marcus scores.

“SIXTY-THIRTY TO SLYTHERIN!” Hermione calls out, and the crowd buzzes with anticipation. She sees both Harry and Draco start to run interference for their Chasers, and the scores start to pile up for Gryffindors. Seventy-Thirty to Slytherin. Seventy-Forty to Gryffindor. Seventy-Fifty to Gryffindor. Seventy-Sixty to Gryffindor. And finally, Seventy-Seventy to Gryffindor.

Now it’s just a race for the Snitch. Both teams have abandoned scoring, rather, it’s a bloodbath to defend their Seeker by mauling the other team. Everyone are on their feet, shouting, Hermione herself is yelling commentary on the arial battle. Suddenly, Harry and Draco dive, both teams freezing where they are.

The entire crowd holds its breath, as the Alpha’s spiral down towards the ground. In the defining moment, as both their hands are outstretched, and Draco forgets about the Truce-Oath. Kicking Harry’s broom, he jerks, both of them pulling away. But then, at the same time, they both surge back, grabbing the Snitch at exactly the same moment.

The stands are screaming now as Hermione yells at them to shut up. As soon as the stands are quiet, she announces what Dumbledore grumply supports.

“It’s a _tie!_ Slytherin and Gryffindor _tie_ for the Quidditch Inter-House Cup!” She says, and there’s a silence as confusion ripples out. Hermione sighs, and takes the Cup. Walking down to the Pitch, she motions for the teams to land. Harry and Draco stick together as they land. She motions them to let go of the Snitch.

Snatching it out of the air just before it darts away, she holds the Cup aloft.

“Just take one side, both of you, and smile, you two made Hogwarts history,” She orders, and the Alpha’s take one handle each. Lifting it high, the whole stands ring out with roaring applause.

* * *

Exam week follows the soon to be legendary match, and Hermione has never used her Time-Turner more than she does now. Every night, she makes sure she gets plenty of sleep, of study time, and of relaxation. The downside of this is that Hermione constantly has students coming to her for help; either for study or how she’s not as haggard as the rest of them.

Her only answer is that she keeps a ridged timetable, knowing that each exam is four hours each and planning accordingly. On Monday, Hermione transfigures ≠ a teapot into tortoise ≠ and back again, turns time, and solves all her Arithmancy equations. She has Lunch, performs a brilliant _Cheering Charm_ on Pansy, turns time, then translates a series of spells from ancient runes.

On Tuesday Hermione has to make sure her Flobberworm stays alive. Rolling her eyes at the easy test, she listens in on as Harry, Ron, and Neville talk to Hagrid about Buckbeak. Getting up, she puts a finger to her lips in Daphne’s direction. The Beta nods, and discretely looks over Hermione’s Flobberworm.

Jogging to the Hippogriff paddock, she visits Burnclaw and Buckbeak. In hushed tones, she explains Buckbeak’s fate, to which he just looks at her and trills.

*I know you, Chick of Veela Herself, will save me. This your flockmate has told me,*

* * *

That afternoon, she successfully brews her _Confusing Concoction_, although most of the students are failing at it. Neville especially can’t get the consistency right under Professor Snape’s gaze. Later that night, she hurries to identify as many constellations and stars as she can, her wrist aching a little when the exam ends.

On Wednesday, Hermione writes about medieval witch hunts, turns time, and explains the inner workings of a car. She has lunch, then has to identify which plants in the Greenhouses are edible and what parts are edible. On Thursday, Hermione passes the obstacle course that Professor Lupin made for them, willing her Boggart to turn into a Dementor.

Calling up all the memories of her family, her friends, and the _need_ to protect them at all costs, Hermione casts.

“_Expecto Patronum!_” A bloom of warmth spreads through her body, as her—incredibly _male_—Ancient Chimoretis Patronus bursts from her hand. He roars at the Boggart, knocking it high into the sky. The beast huffs, and then all four heads look to Hermione kindly. Letting go of the spell, she completes the rest of the course.

Turning time to make it to her last exam, she heads towards the bottom of the Divination tower. When it’s Hermione’s turn, she ignores the pent up ambiance the batty Beta woman tries to make.

“Come sit dear, and gaze into the crystal ball,” Professor Trelawney says. Hermione sits, allowing the shifting shadows to blur in front of her eyes.

“What do you see?”

“Let’s see, there’re nine figures . . . Now they’re disappearing on by one . . . Only three left . . . They’re dueling . . . And there’s a snake.” Hermione looks up. Professor Trelawney seems pleased. As she stands to gather her things, a hand yanks her around. Hissing, Hermione shuts her mouth at the Professor’s blank look that doesn’t match her iron tight grip.

“_THE MOON WILL PASS TWICE,_” Her voice haunting, an echo quality to it. Hermione tries to wriggle out, but she’s stuck.

“_THE BETRAYER SLEEPS ISOLATED AND DESERTED, LEFT BY BLOODSWORN. THE FAITHFUL, SHACKLED, ALONE. THE MOON, BEFORE THE MOON, THE FAITHFUL SHALL RISE, TO REJOIN THE BETRAYER IN BY THE SEA. THERE, THE OUROBOROS SHALL RISE TO A GREAT, TERRIBLE POWER! THE MOON . . . BEFORE THE MOON . . . THE FAITHFUL SHALL RISE . . . TO REJOIN THE BETRAYER . . . IN BY THE SEA . . . WHERE THE OUROBOROS LIES . . ._” Professor Trelawney blinks, she shaking her head.

“Terribly sorry, I don’t feel well,” Professor Trelawney sways, and faints, her head knocking hard on the stone floor.

* * *

Hermione hurries to the Library, no doubt in her mind that what she just heard was a real prophecy. Rushing in, she spots her whole pack except Draco, Harry, and Ron.

“Hermione! Ron said that Hagrid lost the Appeal for Buckbeak!” Ginny blurts, and Neville turns mournful. Harold pats his back, but the Slytherins look contemplative.

“Really,” Hermione murmurs, leaning against the table.

“It’s going to work out.” Luna says in her dreamy way, but Astoria snorts.

“Doubtful.”

“We should all see Hagrid,” Luna replies, Harold, Neville, and Ginny agreeing. Luna looks back at the three other Slytherins.

“You can stand in the Pumpkin Patch if you’d like,” She says airily. Beta Tracey looks at her incredulously.

“You going to go Mio?” Daphne asks carefully. Hermione shrugs, tamping down the urge to speak about the prophecy.

“Then it’s decided—Squirt get you arse up, we’re going,” Beta Tracey says smugly, pushing Astoria out of the chair. She screeches indignantly, and they all have to flee from Madam Pince’s wrath.

— . —

_Similis hilari_ = Cheering Charm (Latin: Be Cheerful)

_A potion that confuses the taker_ = Confusing Concoction

_Expecto Patronum_ = Patronus Charm


	6. Bing Batta Boom—Big Bad Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan when Hermione and Black meet, and even more so when you add time to the equation!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All righty folks! It's a late update, but I still have it!
> 
> Also, this chapter gets pretty heavy in the beginning and middle.

Standing next to the garden around the back of Hagrid’s Hut, Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, and Beta Tracey wait for their counterparts.

“Shame the beast is going to be—” Beta Tracey’s words are cut off with Daphne’s hand.

“Hush!” She hisses, and Astoria rolls her eyes.

“Oh please, I know what death is,” Astoria scowls, and Daphne frowns at her. The door opens, and Harold, Neville, Luna, and Ginny come out.

“Well that was depressing,” Harold drawls, rubbing his eyes.

“It wouldn’t have happened if _someone_ could control his Beta’s,” Ginny casts a stink eye at Daphne and Beta Tracey.

“Look for blame somewhere else, tiny Alpha,” Daphne snaps. Beta Tracey snigger turns into a shriek. Leaping up, she jumps into Harold, who catches her out of reflex. A mangy, disgusting looking rat hops onto where she just was. Even Neville wrinkles his nose.

“Wasn’t that the rat that Ron thought was Scabber’s girlfriend?” Ginny points to it, and Neville shrugs.

“Maybe?” He sounds unsure.

“Oh now that’s rancid,” Astoria gags. Harold tries to set Beta Tracey down, but ends up toppling them onto the ground. Her face beat red, she pushes away from him, muttering her thanks while Harold grimaces bashfully. Daphne and Hermione share an amused look.

“Hey, can I roll around in dirt too?” Astoria asks Daphne, who smacks her lightly on the head.

“Of course not!”

“Wait a minute, I can give this to Ron,” Ginny points her wand at the rat, levitating it up. It starts squeaking up a storm as it lurches up, tiny snarls spitting out at them. Daphne sneers.

“Best thing you could do to that is to put it back in the Dark Forest,”

Ginny shrugs.

“It’ll be Scabbers Two-Point-Zero—hey!” The rat had somehow managed to send itself sailing through the air.

“Hold it! Merlin, stop moving!” Ginny shouts, running after the rat. Hermione rolls her eyes, but then stills when she sees the Minister of Magic, two wizards from the Committee, the executioner, and Dumbledore walking down to the Hut.

“Ginny! Stop!” Hermione calls, taking off after the young Alpha whose path is headed straight across the group’s path.

“Mio?!” Astoria calls behind her, and Hermione hears the group following her. Easily catching up to Ginny, she flings out her hand, and Ginny yelps as her body is frozen mid stride. Another yelp sounds when she face plants.

“What the hell?!” Ginny growls. Stopping next to her, Hermione narrows her eyes as the rat runs between the group’s feet, and off towards the Whomping Willow. Astoria and Daphne arrive first, followed by Neville, then Harold and Beta Tracey.

“That was a close one! Did you see the Minister? He’s even more handsome than the pictures!” Beta Tracey gasps, winded. Releasing Ginny from her frozen state, Hermione jerks her head towards the group entering Hagrid’s Hut.

“Oh,” Daphne says. A shadow passes over them, and they look up. Err’sh swoops low, and dusk begins to creep across the sky. There’s a still moment as they watch Err’sh angle himself towards the Whomping Willow.

“No way that isn’t a coincidence,” Harold mutters, and Beta Tracey looks positively mischievous. Suddenly, three boys burst out from the doors of Hogwarts

“AFTER THAT BLOODY BIRD! I’M NOT ABOUT TO LET IT KILL ANOTHER INNOCENT RAT!” Ron roars, leading the charge.

“But that’s Hermione’s Familiar!” Harry cries.

“GIVE ME BACK MY WAND!” Draco howls.

“Ron,” Neville groans.

“Bloody Gryffindors,” Astoria sighs. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione starts after Harry and Ron. She won’t let the thick headed Beta attempt to attack her Familiar, packmate or not.

“Lord Weasley seems very mad,” Luna says dreamily to Hermione as they fast walk towards the Whomping Willow. Astoria snorts.

“When isn’t he?”

Ginny scowls at her.

“Hey, that’s my brother you’re talking about,”

“Yes, but he’s like a walking time-bomb,” Daphne scoffs, and Ginny’s face gets a bit red.

“We all have faults,” Hermione says, her eyes scanning the skies for Err’sh. No sight of him.

“Yeah, some just blow their top without knowing sufficient information, but hey, we can’t all be perfect.” Beta Tracey drawls.

“Hey, knock it off will you?” Harold snaps, and she blinks owlishly at him, then turns away from him. Neville stops for a moment, looking down.

“What now?” Daphne sighs.

“Um, it’s a paw print, like, a _really_ big paw print,” They all stop, and backtrack to the sight. In the mud, is a print the size of Hermione’s hand. Hermione crouches slowly, sniffing to confirm his scent. Ginny swallows.

“That’s a dead dog,” Luna says airily.

“No, it’s still very much alive.” Astoria growls, sniffing the air. A sudden scream cuts through the stillness. They all leap to their feet, and Ginny sprints in the direction of the sound.

“RON!” She yells. Hermione hears a resounding earsplitting whistle-scream. Err’sh. Before she knows it, she passes Ginny, not faltering when she sees the scene before her. Harry; robes caught on the Whomping Willow’s branches, being swung around violently. Ron; wriggling out of his hand as he’s dragged into a hole under the tree by a large black dog.

Hermione snarls when she sees the dog, locking on Eros’ killer. Her world tunnels to just it, the Animagus. His black eyes snap up at hers, and they narrow, and he and Ron disappear.

* * *

There are distant cries, but Hermione pays them no heed. Charging at the tree, she leaps over a swinging branch, ducking under another. Just as Harry passes for another round, she grabs him, rolling. A branch swings where she was standing. Hermione launches herself forwards, her hand grabbing a stump to steady herself.

Instantly, the tree stills.

“**HERMIONE MENDONICA T’ES EN COLÈRE?! VOUS POURRIEZ ÊTRE TUÉ!** [HERMIONE MENDONICA ARE YOU MAD?! YOU COULD OF BEEN KILLED!]” She hears Daphne howl.

“**Attends moi!** [Wait for me!]” Astoria calls follows her into the hole. Jumping down the short flight of stairs, she drops Harry, racing down the dark, abused floorboards. She flies up the stairs silently, and barreling straight through the door at the end of the single hall. She’s a predator hunting a cornered prey.

The next moment is a tornado of magic, pained screams, and animalistic screams. Hermione’s body morphs like water, all power and rage and revanchism against Black. He didn’t even stand a chance against her. The tight walls around them become her tools to break her prey’s body; and his blood splatters over everything.

He sags against a wall, still remarkable alive. Hermione advances on him, and in a pathetic attempt to fight back, he breaks a window and throws himself out of it. Such a prey mindset. Believing they can outmatch their predator. She swirls after him, her form expanding without the confines of walls.

Under the full moon, a filmy haze of purple coats Hermione’s vision. She roars; it a thunderous, inhuman sound that has her prey scrambling back in terror. Her form twists and coils spearing around her prey. He screams as she circles them high into the night sky, pleading for his life. She’s the eye of the storm, and she howls with mad glee.

Clouds sweep over them, and spurred by her magic, they’re thick, grey, and _angry_. Lightning arcs through her, and her prey howls as he’s struck. The storm unleashes it’s load. Heavy sheets of rain batter the ground as thunder bangs and lightning cracks. Hermione starts laughing, toying with her prey.

Tossing him up, her large form twitches as something plows through it. Snarling, she turns her gaze away from her prey for a second—and that’s when it happens. A figure on a broom snatches him up. Shrieking, she tears through the air after the figure, more and more figures appearing around her.

Roaring, Hermione blasts wave after wave of lightning at the gnats swarming about her. Hogwarts Castle is illuminated by the strength of her storm. Swimming through her storm, she hunts for her prey, and when she spots him, her shrill crackle topples trees.

* * *

_Bloody hell._

Is what Neville thought when he passed the pissed off older Greengrass and into the Whomping Willow.

_Bloody hell._

Is what Neville said when he helped Harry through the structure and found the blood soaked and unconscious Ron.

_Bloody._

Is what Neville saw when he beheld the shattered remains of the main room of the Shrieking Shack.

_Hell._

Is what Neville knew to be true when he walked over to the gap where a wall should have been, and stared in horror at the dark smoke-like monster attacking Sirius Black.

He doesn’t notice when the rest of Hermione’s pack filled the remains of the room, or when Harold stopped by his side, eyes wide. What he did see, was his Alfā in pain. She was hurting—_Black had hurt her_. Neville clenches his fists tightly at that thought. He might be forgetful, but he isn’t blind.

Omega’s are observers. One simply doesn’t get a _persona non grata_ randomly. Harold glances at him, and slips his hand into Neville’s.

“Aurors?” The Beta whispers. The thing that is the pain of Hermione cries out an inhuman sound, and everyone but Luna cringe and slap their hands to their ears. The Gamma walks leisurely up to Neville’s side, still smiling dopily.

“And so it begins,” She says dreamily, and Black is swept up into the sky by the raging dark magic. Daphne whirls on her, eyes wide.

“What the hell is happening?!” She screams. Her sister merely tugs Daphne’s sleeve, jaw slack as she stares at Hermione’s dark magic. They can all feel the heady fog of aggressiveness slithering about them, and rain clouds form unnaturally.

“She’s _hunting,_” Astoria whispers reverently. Beta Tracey gives the young Alpha a wary and concerned look. Luna smiles brightly at the younger Greengrass.

“No,” Harry grunts, carefully setting down Ron. Luna turns slowly to him, her silvery eyes usually deceptively cloudy now hard and bright. Like, _glowing_, bright. Harry stands firm, his feet planted as the storm shudders around them, emerald-green eyes staring up where his Godfather is being tossed like a rag doll.

“No.” He repeats, his voice barely heard over the sudden lightning and thundering.

“No _what,_ Potter?! Sspeak clearer!” Draco yells, clutching his wand close to his chest. Harry glares at the other Alpha, but points at Hermione’s dark magic.

“She’s _playing_ with him! He should be rotting in Azkaban—not this! She’s trying to kill him slowly!” He roars. Beta Tracey straightens herself up tall, placing her hands on her hips.

“So what?! The King of Slytherin issued a _persona non grata!_”

Harry growl is lost in the storm. Luna’s eyes have steadily been glowing brighter.

“Hermione’s not my King!” He takes a step towards Beta Tracey.

“But she is your _Alpha!_” The Beta retorts. Harry opens his mouth, his eyes sliding to Ron, when Ginny rushes forwards. With one punch, Harry goes down, staring up at the younger Alpha in shock.

“I’ve had enough with your nonsense Harry James Potter!” Lightning cracks at her words, and Harry flinches.

“You’re no King of Gryffindor! Letting your Queen run around without any self control! I love Ron, but he’s a Beta trying to be an Alpha! At this point only Neville holds any semblance of respect for The Beta even though he’s an Omega!” Ginny snarls, her words cutting into Harry more than any spell can.

Neville’s eyes widen as she blatantly speaks about inner House politics. Beta Tracey’s eyes are alight with the gossip, and she glances at him. Astoria gasps a little, and Neville turns to see Aurors flooding the air on their brooms.

“The Weasley’s have always held the status of King of Gryffindor, and you two are ruining our House’s reputation!” Ginny continues, and her Alpha pheromones surge out, smothering Harry. He grunts, trying to fight it, but he can’t. Neville shakes his head sadly. Harry was never challenged properly, and Draco was always a proper rival by never going full out against him.

“I, Ginerva Molly Weasley, do challenge Harry James Potter for status of King of Gryffindor!” The young Alpha calls, and Hermione’s dark magic throws out an earsplitting volley of lightning. Daphne steps forwards.

“I, Daphne Elainar Greengrass, Queen of Slytherin, Ally of House Mendonica, do acknowledge the challenge!”

One by one, they step forwards.

“I, Tracey Nettlebed, The Beta of Slytherin . . .”

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, of House Slytherin . . .”

“I, Astoria Greengrass, of House Slytherin . . .”

“I, Harold Hawking, Beta of House Mendonica . . .”

“I, Luna Pandora Lovegood, Bounded-Vassal of House Mendonica . . .”

“I . . .” Neville starts, then pauses. He takes a deep breath, and stares into his former King’s eyes.

“I, Neville Frank Longbottom, Omega of House Mendonica, do acknowledge the challenge.”

With that, Ginny lashes her pheromones at Harry, knocking him unconscious. So it’s in the malevolent storm, with Hermione’s dark magic hunting her prey, that Ginny becomes King of Gryffindor.

* * *

Hermione dives after her prey, leaving the gnats behind. He’s commandeered a broom, but she swats him off it. Her form writhes in anticipation as his body sails in a graceful arc and head first into the Black Lake. Swirling lazily across the churning surface, she searches for her prey.

Suddenly, a reverberating hiss slices through her storm from atop the Astronomy tower. Prey forgotten entirely; Hermione cowers at the sheer magical power levering its heavy, disappointed gaze on her. She _knows_ this power. Her form shrinks, morphing back to physicality on the dock. Her magic pulls deep inside her, shivering alongside her Thrall in shame.

Her clouds dissipate, revealing the clear night sky once more. The silence after the cacophony is deafening. The powerful magic blinks out for a brief moment, and then reappears—right—in—front—of—her. Hermione lowers her eyes as she hears the clicking of heels on wood before she sees them.

“Look at me.” Eto orders softly, and Hermione does. The Veela Alfā’s one burning eye is pure white, a soft sizzling sound of magic emitting from it. Hermione struggles to hold its disgusted gaze.

_SMACK!_

Eto’s swift hand leaves a flushed, red mark on her cheek. Hermione lowers her eyes in submission, reeling at the blow. She deserved it.

»You _shame_ me.«

She whimpers involuntarily at these three words. Eto continues mercilessly.

»You _dishonor_ our House. You _disrespect_ this institution. You _hunt_ carelessly.« By now Hermione’s just a small thing shriveling under her mother’s truth. Eto has only spoken the truth. She never even spared a thought to her pack in her quest for revenge.

A lone creature howls, and she tilts her head a little. That’s a Werewolf. Concern for her pack replaces her predator mindset, but she doesn’t move without being dismissed. Eto merely rises her head when they hear a distant splashing and hacking.

»You failed to kill your prey.« She states coldly. Hermione nods stiffly. Eto takes a deep breath, and releases it, the fierce white light from her eye fading back to its usual blue. Hermione starts to breath as well, relaxing a little.

»And yet . . .« Hermione looks up at this. Eto blinks calmly, and places her hands on Hermione’s shoulders.

»I forget that you are still a _child_.« Eto pulls her into a tight embrace, and Hermione all but melts into it, closing her eyes. Her Thrall and magic purr, rising to the surface to seek atonement. When she feels Eto pull away, Hermione opens her eyes, but Eto’s gone. Looking around, not a trace of the Veela Alfā remains, as if she was never there at all.

Reaching up to her cheek, Hermione can still feel it’s puffy sting. It is a harsh reminder. A chorus of screams echo through the trees, and she knows what she has to do. Taking out her Time-Turner, she prepares herself. A tickling thought makes her look over her shoulder. Across the flat waters, Black has crawled into the Dark Forest, leaving a bloody trail.

Twisting the knobs, she fades through time.

* * *

Hermione reappears in the North tower, the trap door clicking shut, and Professor Trelawney still unconscious. She slides a pillow under the Beta’s head and arranges her hands on her stomach so it looks like Professor Trelawney is sleeping. Opening the window, she morphs into a Barn Owl, swooping away from the tower.

Gliding along the side of the castle, she spies Professor Snape stalking along a corridor through the windows. He clutches a vile in his hands, its distinctive faint blue smoke wafting from around the corked mouth identifying it as the _Wolfsbane Potion_. The clues line up, and Hermione realizes that Professor Lupin never took his monthly dose.

Banking sharply, she lands in an empty hallway, and morphs back. Her efforts may oft for not in the time-loop, but she’ll damn well try to change her pack’s future. Placing her hand on the stone wall, she tunes into Hogwarts’ magic, sending a questioning pulse of her own. She waits, counting her heartbeats—when Hogwarts answers.

A door appears, her hand on its handle. Grinning, she thanks Hogwarts, opening the door. Stepping through, she enters another empty hallway, but on the other side and ground floor of the castle. It’s gotten a lot darker already. Perhaps the door itself uses time magic. The door disappears, and low and behold Professor Lupin turns around the corner. Holding the Marauder’s Map tightly with his wand illuminating it.

He stops when he sees her, carefully angling the Map towards him, but he doesn’t put it away.

“Miss Mendonica, aren’t you supposed to still be in your dorm?” He asks. She narrows her eyes. Hermione won’t allow him to leave the castle. She’ll put him in the Chamber of Secrets for the night if she has to.

“Why do you have Harry’s Map?” She replies, taking a step forwards. Professor Lupin draws himself up tall.

“And how do you know Mr. Potter even has a Map at all?”

Hermione smirks.

“Acting daft doesn’t suit you, Werewolf.” He stiffens at her words, and his eyes glance down to the Map. She thrusts out her hand.

_Accio Map!_

It flies out of Professor Lupin’s unsuspecting hands into hers. He jerks forwards too late, his eyes fixed intently on the Map. Taking a look at the Map, she doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Not even Black’s name is on here.

“Say, Professor,” Hermione looks up to Professor Lupin, the Alpha shifting on his feet nervously.

“Who were you looking for?” She asks. He doesn’t respond, looking conflicted. If this is what he wants, then she’ll use it to keep him

“I could rip this—” She starts to apply pressure to the Map, and he lurches forward, horror on his face.

“No!”

Hermione stops.

“Or, I could sing to the hills of another Werewolf in Hogwarts,” Hermione drawls, folding up the Map and stuffing it in her robes. His shoulders slouch, then tense again. Probably remembering that he forgot to take his potion.

“I . . .” A shrill whistle starts them both. Outside, Err’sh swoops low, talons out to catch a small creature.

*Stop struggling you ugly rat!* Err’sh whistles, diving again.

“Ah yes, that bloody rat,” She mutters, and Professor Lupin’s jaw drops.

“_What?!_ Where’s the rat?!” Professor Lupin cries, looking around wildly until he realizes what Err’sh is doing.

“Stop! Don’t kill it!” He roars, surprising Hermione as he leaps out the open window, chasing after her Familiar into the Dark Forest. Hermione swears, morphing into a Barn Owl and flapping after him. Overtaking Professor Lupin easily, she circles around Err’sh, whose night vision isn’t the best.

Zeroing on the rat, she pounces on silent wings, catching the shrieking rat in her talons. Err’sh whistles his congratulations, and she passes the rat to him. She lands, morphing back just as Professor Lupin appears.

“Please—I just need the rat—that’s all I ask. Tell everyone I’m a Werewolf—I just need that rat,” Professor Lupin wheezes, his hands on his knees. Err'sh lands on Hermione’s shoulder, holding the rat by its tail in his beak.

“Why? What’s so important about this rat?” She asks, walking further into the Forest. Drawing him in and away from the Shrieking Shack.

“Because he’s Peter Pettigrew!”

— . —

_Eases the symptoms of lycanthropy; prevents Werewolves from losing their minds post-transformation_ = Wolfsbane Potion

_Accio_ = Summoning Charm


	7. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione turns time some more, and she and Daphne have a little chat!

“Pardon?” Hermione scoffs. Professor Lupin’s eyes stay glued on Scabbers Two Point Zero.

“I’ll swear an Unbreakable Vow if I must—that—is—Peter—Pettigrew.” He growls, and Hermione shares a look with Err’sh. The Lammergeier shrugs, swinging the rat around lazily. It’s too exhausted to even squeak.

“I suppose we could test your . . . Theory.” Hermione drawls, and Err’sh tosses the rat into the air. This time it does squeak.

“_Contrarium Amato Animo Animato Animagus,_” She chants, aiming her hand at it. And has to lurch backwards when it turns back into a large, fat man. Professor Lupin immediately stuns him, and Peter Pettigrew is out for the count. The Werewolf is panting, wand shaking as he keeps it aimed at his former friend.

“See? I told you,”

Err’sh takes off her shoulders, landing next to the prone Omega man.

“And here I thought Azkaban was inescapable,” Hermione murmurs, crouching next to the unregistered Animagus. Professor Lupin growls again, rage tight on his face.

“Dementors cannot sense the souls of animals. That’s how he escaped,”

“Fascinating,” She murmurs, and Professor Lupin scowls at that.

“It’s _means,_ Miss Mendonica, that Sirius Black is _innocent_. So you can lift that _persona non—_”

“No.” Hermione cuts him off, the Werewolf gaping at her.

“But he’s inno—”

“Like I said. _No_.” She says coldly, and this time the Professor turns his ire at her.

“He escaped Azkaban to clear his name! Pettigrew attacked the Potters, and framed Sirius!” He shouts. Hermione stands, crossing her arms.

“How does killing his betrayer clear his name?”

Professor Lupin winces.

“That was a judgement error—he’s now trying to catch him,”

“And since you’re ever the loyal packmate, you’ve been helping Black.” Hermione says, looking down at Pettigrew. Waving her hand, ropes appear and bind the Omega tight, levitating him above the Dark Forest leaf litter.

“Now that I know Pettigrew is the source of my problems; I have a few more questions that people are itching to know,” She drawls, and Professor Lupin jerks, his eyes darting around.

“Er, perhaps tomorrow? Tonight is not the best—”

_BANG!_

* * *

Hermione jumps backwards with her still unconscious captive, sniffing as Professor Lupin groans. He sags against the tree he was thrown into. The air shimmers, and Professor Snape whips off the Invisibility Cloak. That explains why she didn’t smell him coming. His black eyes flick to her and Pettigrew, then focus on Professor Lupin.

“How—how do you have James’ Cloak?” The Werewolf wheezes, freezing when Professor Snape levels his wand at his chest.

“So clumsy, Potter is. He just left it lying on the grounds,” Now a dark sneer pastes across his lips.

“So much to live up to—oh, but his father’s dead.” Professor Lupin roars, jumping up, but another _BANG!_ and he’s groaning on the ground again.

“A useful spell, one I decided I oft to make after what you did.” Professor Snape hisses, manic fever pouring off him. Hermione starts to slowly edge away from the confrontation, taking her captive with her. The clouds start to form, gathering thickly. She waves her hand, a shield forming in a dome around them. It blocks out the effects of her tantrum and the rain.

“I’ve told Dumbledore over and over, you’re not to be trusted, and yet, here you are, in you old little getaway so close to the full moon, with _Black_.” Professor Snape snarls.

“Severus—wait—” but Professor Snape flicks his wand, ropes flying out and binding Professor Lupin tight, he falling to the floor. Her storm picks up, and soon, Professor Snape is yelling so his words can be heard.

“Look at you, not so much the beast that tried to kill me, but you will be, soon. You forgot you potion!” Professor Snape sneers, his eyes alight with maniac fervor.

“_Noooo,_” Professor Lupin half moans half howls. Hermione’s a good few meters away from them, when she freezes at Professor Snape’s words almost snatched away by the winds.

“You know I was there _that_ night?! Do you know it was _I_ who saved the Potter’s?! _My_ Patronus summed you! _My_ actions prevented the Death Eaters from claiming her life! _ME—THE BETA YOU FOUR TRIED TO KILL!_”

The storm breaks, with the flare of Eto’s magic, and with it her shield. The full moon is revealed, its beams glowing proudly on them. Professor Snape coldly raises his wand as Professor Lupin starts to change.

* * *

Hermione knows at once that her House Head is no match for this Werewolf. The beast that replaced Professor Lupin emerged from its human side already in pain and anguish.

*Give the rat to the Aurors in Hogsmeade!* She trills, snapping her fingers to make Pettigrew weightless. Err’sh nods, grasping the still unconscious Omega’s ropes in his talons and taking off. A low growl sounds from the Werewolf, and Professor Snape readjusts his grip on his wand.

A sliver of moonlight beams down on the Werewolf’s head, and it throws back its muzzle in a solitary howl, then charges. Professor Snape roars, curses blasting out of his wand, each hitting their mark. But none making a scratch on the Werewolf. Hermione snarls, lashing out with her Thrall.

Swatting him out of the air, the Werewolf lands with a thud, rolling once before leaping to his feet. Baring his fangs, his ears perk up, and he whirls away into the night. Cursing under her breath, Hermione bounds past her shocked Professor and morphs. Landing on four paws in her Direwolf form, she takes off after the Werewolf in a sprint.

Bounding around trees, she tracks his rancid sent through the Dark Forest. Familiar looking trees fly by, and Hermione realizes where the Werewolf’s headed. The Shrieking Shack. Roaring, she bursts from the tree line, weaving through the whomping willow’s swinging branches.

She doesn’t have to claw her way through the hole; for the Werewolf already shredded the opening wide. Racing down the hallway, she hears the terrified screams before she sees the Werewolf. Never slowing, Hermione howls her challenge, and plow straight into the Werewolf’s flank.

He yelps in pain as they’re thrown out the opening where a wall was, her momentum making them tumble on the grass before they can gather their senses. Kicking with her hind legs, she throws the Werewolf off her, leaping to her paws. The Werewolf recovers just as fast, his furious snarl silencing all sounds of night life chatter.

Hermione answers, pulling back her lips and showing her gums. Widening her stance, she lifts her head high, and keeps her tail erect, a warning growl bubbling up her throat. The Werewolf growls, but starts to lower his head at her dominant posture.

“Watch out!” Her ears flick to the call, and the Werewolf forgets his submission. He lurches forwards, intent on catching new prey. But Hermione won’t allow it. Rearing on her hindlegs, she slams down on the Werewolf’s shoulders, her jaws closing around his neck. The Werewolf yelps, claws drawing blood as he struggles to free himself.

Hermione grunts from the sting of her flesh wounds, and shakes the Werewolf firmly, growling loudly and digging her fangs deeper into thin flesh. Instantly, the Werewolf goes limp, whimpers pouring out of his muzzle. Huffing angrily, Hermione tosses the Werewolf back towards the Dark Forest.

He pelts away the second his paws get underneath him, tail tucked between his legs. Giving a short howl of victory, she turns to face the Shrieking Shack. Her pack stand there, staring at her. A myriad of emotions display across their faces, but the one that catches her attention the most is Luna’s eyes.

Unlike Eto’s harsh white, the Gamma’s white eyes hold a comforting familiarity. Hermione shakes herself, her Thrall healing her wounds. Luna looks up to her namesake, smiling.

“She was only half wrong, as usual—” Luna cuts off her words with a sharp gasp, and then her next words have the same echoey quality Professor Trelawney had.

“_WE DO NOT LIKE TO CHANNEL THROUGH AN AVATAR SUCH AS SHE,_” Luna says cryptically, looking down at Hermione. Neville places a steading hand on the Gamma’s shoulder as she starts to sway.

“_THRICE IS OUR NUMBER. CLOSURE FOR THE FALSELY ACCUSED, THE INFATUATED, AND THE SOUL THEE SHALL FIND. THRICE THE MOON SHALL PASS._” Luna says hauntingly, and the glow in her eyes winks out. Beta Tracey catches her when the Gamma collapses in a dead faint.

* * *

“What the bloody hell wass that?” Draco hisses, his silver-grey eyes staring widely at Luna’s prone body. Hermione blinks, and understands. Morphing back, Hermione reaches for her Time-Turner. Astoria lets out a jubilant cry, and Daphne has to hold her back from leaping out of the wall. The Beta stares at Hermione intently, clutching the collar of her robes.

Hermione scans over her pack, her gaze dragging on the still forms of Harry, Ron, and Luna. Taking a breath, Neville gives her a winning smile, and she once more slides through Time.

* * *

She’s getting tired of the North tower. Glancing out the window, Hermione spots her Past-Self soaring along the side of the castle in a Barn Owl form. Looking about the small Division classroom, Hermione thinks quickly over what she has to do. Luna said she will find closure, and that can only mean through Black.

Her fists clench, even the mere thought of him triggering her. Taking deep breaths, an epiphany hits her. Stalking over to the open window, she pulls on her Familiar bond. Err’sh comes quickly, landing on the sill.

*Err’sh, I’m your Hermione’s Future-Self, and right now I need you to hunt the rat Animagus: Peter Pettigrew.* She orders, her tweets loud in seriousness. He nods, and flies away, his search beginning. Rubbing her face, Hermione morphs into another Barn Owl, flying the opposite way her Past-Self is.

On this side of the castle, the shadows cling like lovers to the stone, providing plenty of cover for her. It even allows her to bank through an open window undetected. Checking that the coast is clear, Hermione morphs back, quickly striding through the halls. She won’t attempt to ask Hogwarts for assistance again—it already helped her enough.

Turning a corner, Hermione stops too late—and bumps into Daphne. The Beta squeaks when her face smacks against Hermione’s chest. She leaps back, a dark flush dusting her cheeks. As the Beta stammers out a rambling babble of apologies, Hermione tries to figure out how to get Daphne to the Library where she _should_ be.

Why is she here, on the other side of the castle? Hermione tunes in to Daphne’s babble when she hears:

“—and I saw a Barn Owl fly by on the wrong side of Hogwarts, so I was tracking it—have you seen it?” Brilliant grass-green eyes look up to her, and Hermione makes a snap decision.

“Yes. This way now,” She says, and strides away. Daphne takes a second to comprehend her words, then trots up to her side.

“Oh! But I thought the owl was going the other way . . .” Daphne trails off, glancing up at Hermione rapidly as they trail further down to the ground floor.

“I _was_, and I’m not injured.” Hermione says, and the Beta gives her an odd look before realization dawns in her eyes.

“You’re an Anim—_umph!_” Daphne’s exclamation turns into a high squeal when Hermione jerks the Beta against her front tightly, her hand covering parted lips. Daphne goes completely still, and Hermione’s grateful; for it allows her to drag them behind a corner and out of view.

“I SAW IT HARRY, AND I’M GOING TO STOP IT!” Past-Past-Self Ron roars, holding two wands.

“Ron! Hold it!” Past-Past-Self Harry cries, chasing after the Beta, dropping his Invisibility Cloak. Past-Past-Self Draco races close behind them, roaring about how Ron’s breaking the pack dynamic. Hermione waits a few more precious seconds after the boys disappear before she releases Daphne.

And then she has to catch the Beta when her knees give out.

“Hey, what’s wrong Ma Tigresse? [My Tigress?]” Hermione asks, worried as she supports the Beta’s full weight against her. Daphne’s face is beet red, and she keeps touching her lips. Hermione sniffs around the Beta, trying to detect any smell of sickness. Even more worryingly, there’s none.

“Come on,” Hermione huffs as she easily picks the Beat up bridal style. A glance outside, and she determines she still has enough time to take Daphne to the Hospital Wing. The Beta’s gone mute, and her limbs limp. Fortunately, they don’t pass any other student in the halls, and soon, they’re in front of the Hospital Wing.

That’s when Daphne decides to come back alive.

“I’m fine! Really! You can put me down! I’m _perfectly fine!_ Mio, please—” She’s wriggling in Hermione’s grip, making it harder for her to hold the Beta. So Madam Pomfrey opens her doors to Daphne squirming in Hermione’s arms, one hand pushing against her cheek. At once the Omega woman’s expression gets very cross.

“I shall _not_ be involved with an over concerned Alpha lover even if it is _you_ of all students! Good day to you!” She hisses, slamming the doors in their faces. Hermione sets the Beta down promptly, both blushing in the silence.

* * *

It’s Daphne who breaks the silence first.

“I . . . Is that the Minister?” The Beta’s attention is snagged by the powerful Alpha strolling around the grounds with his little execution group. Hermione remembers Luna’s fateful words.

“‘_Closure for the Falsely Accused,_’” She murmurs.

“Did you say something?” Daphne asks, awkwardly shifting on her feet.

“Yes—will you help me?” Hermione looks down at the Beta, who answers automatically with a:

“Yes.”

Giving her a quick smile, Hermione grabs the Beta’s hand and gently guides her through a low, open window. Daphne opens her mouth, but shuts it when Hermione raises a finger to her mouth. Holding the Beta’s hand, she slowly edges along the side of the castle, keeping a sharp lookout for any Barn Owls.

Pausing around a bend in the wall, she lets Daphne peer over her shoulder.

“Merlin’s beard!” She exclaims, her jaw dropping when she sees their Past-Past-Selves standing in the Pumpkin Patch with the rest of the pack. Hermione can feel the burn of the Beta’s eyes on her neck.

“Yes, I’ve used the Time-Turner,” She mutters, and Daphne smacks her forehead, and opens her mouth.

“And yes, that is you down there. You were with us in the Library—but don’t think about it too much, or Time might royally screw with your mind.” Hermione replies to Daphne’s obvious question. She works her jaw, then out of no where, smacks Hermione hard on the back of the head. Hissing in surprise, she looks up at the Beta warily.

“If you pull me into another time loop not even Luna Lovegood will be able to get my itching powder out of your clothes!” Daphne hisses before going back to staring at her Past-Past-Self. Staying quiet to keep from risking more chastisement, Hermione narrows her focus on Buckbeak.

When Ginny finds Pettigrew, Hermione carefully drags Daphne to the Dark Forest. Keeping track of the series of events from behind the tree line, she crouches forwards towards the sleeping Hippogriff. He’s tied to a post in the pumpkin patch. She leaves Daphne by the pumpkins as a look out, the Beta’s head constantly on a swivel.

Quickly morphing into a Sparrow—ignoring Daphne’s gasp—she brushes her Thrall against Buckbeak’s feathers, and he jolts, his head whipping towards her.

*Did Burnclaw send you to bring me back to the herd?* He caws softly, bowing slightly.

*Yes, we’re here to free you,* Hermione trills, and she hears Daphne gasp again. Hermione sees the Minister and his group approach, and then her Past-Past-Self heading towards the Whomping Willow.

“Hermione! We have to go!” Daphne hisses. The Ministry group pass Buckbeak who watches them pass with slitted eyes. Waiting a moment, she flutters over to the rope tying the Hippogriff down. Morphing her talons larger, she jaggedly cuts through the rope. Morphing her talons smaller again, she flaps to his back.

Buckbeak surges to his feet, trotting over to Daphne. Turning back around, Hermione waves a wing at a pumpkin, it permanently transfiguring into the form of a sleeping Hippogriff. It’s got flaws, but only someone who cared enough to really look would find them.

Daphne bows to Buckbeak, and he nods his head back. Morphing back to her normal body, she extends a hand to the Beta. She takes it instantly.

“Hold on tight,” Hermione says as she hauls Daphne up and in front of her. Buckbeak throws his head, wings flapping as he takes off into the sky. Hermione guides him with her knees over the Dark Forest, her hands fisted in Buckbeak’s neck ruff. Staying low to the canopy, she realizes how stiff Daphne is.

“Do you not like heights? I should of asked,” Hermione says, leaning forwards and pulling the Beta closer. Daphne’s breath hitches, and she shakes her head.

“May we land?” She answers tersely. Hermione smiles apologetically. It’s starting to get dark, and Buckbeak banks, landing on the other side of the Black Lake. When the Hippogriff’s talons and hooves touch down, Daphne lets out a shuddering breath. Hermione pats her shoulders, watching the sky as it darkens quickly.

“Sorry, I should have been more considerate of your fears,” She says, swinging off Buckbeak. Daphne seems to physically deflate. Hermione sends out a wave of her magic, making a shield to protect them from her Past-Past-Self’s magic.

“Hermione,” The Beta says, and Hermione looks up, a questioning look on her face. Daphne takes a breath to steel herself.

“Am I really your best friend?” She asks.

“Of course. You are my Queen of Slytherin.” Hermione says truthfully, and Daphne nods slowly.

“Oh. In that case, you should stop using the perfume I gave you,”

Hermione tilts her head.

“What? Why?” At this, the Beta blushes.

“I . . . May of put some of my scent in it,” She mumbles, and now it’s Hermione’s turn to blush.

“Ah, very Slytherin,” She mutters. So that explains the reactions her House had. Hermione doesn’t think she’s mad at Daphne, rather she feels a little awkward. Buckbeak chitters for attention, and Hermione looks up at him.

*I thank you for saving my life, and I will leave you and your mate now.* Buckbeak caws, spreading his wings. Hermione squawks at him, denying Daphne as her mate, but he shrugs unconcerned.

*Where will you go?* She trills. He shakes his neck.

*I know of another herd to the north, and that is where I shall go. Farewell Chick!* Buckbeak trills, taking off into the sky, exiting her shield. Daphne blinks rapidly at the exchange, then sits down on the grassy bank.

“So what can’t you do?” She asks in a flat tone. Hermione sits down with her, lightning, thunder, and rain flashing above them, but they can’t hear it.

“Hm, I don’t forgive easily.”

“I see.”

Daphne quiets, gathering her thoughts.

“So you being overly touchy, that’s just because you’re French?” She asks, and Hermione almost says it’s because she loves the Greengrass sisters quite dearly, but she doesn’t think Daphne needs that heartache.

“Eh, I’m kinda half-French, but yes to your question.” She says, and Daphne hums, then shivers. Now that Hermione thinks about it, it’s getting cold in her shield. Mist pushes against the outside, swirling eerily. Hermione jumps to her feet instantly, hands out. It seems her shield is a double-edged sword, for she didn’t sense the Dementors until they were on top of them.

Daphne whimpers, standing shakily next to her. The dark creatures that were attracted to her storm circle above them, taking turns trying to dislodge her shield. She could hold her shield and cast the Patronus at the same time, but she doesn’t want to risk Daphne’s soul.

“Daphne, _look at me_.” Hermione orders, the Beta obeying her Alfā voice. Cupping Daphne’s face, she makes sure the Beta only has eyes on her.

“I need you focus on protecting _me_—don’t look at them—_look at me_—feel that emotion—alright?” She asks, and Daphne nods dumbly.

“Now say _Expecto Patronum_.”

The Beta mumbles it under her breath, repeating it. Hermione releases Daphne, turning her hands to her shield.

“When I drop the shield, get ready to cast.”

— . —

_Contrarium Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ = Animagus Reversal Spell (Latin: Reverse)

_Expecto Patronum_ = Patronus Charm


	8. Turn Time 'Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione confronts Black yet again, although with less rag doll throwing,

Daphne nods, adjusting her grip on her wand.

“And—now!” Hermione’s shield drops, and rain and the Dementors swarm down upon them. Her palms flash with light, and her Patronus bursts forth. Daphne screams, and a white light erupts from her wand. Warmth fills them, chasing away the instant cold and chill of the rain.

One Dementor darts around her Patronus, its mouth open as it begins to feed from Daphne. Hermione jerks the Beta close to her, lashing out wildly with her magic and Thrall.

•_**Baccck off!**_• Hermione roars in a voice like metal grating on metal. The Dementor freezes, halting it’s sucking, although the cold lingers. Her Patronus breathes columns of white fire at the Dementors, scattering them while a smaller figure darts after them.

•**_I hhhave never hhheard a prey ssspeak Daiemenoksssol, your sssoul ssshhhall be a feassst,_**• The Dementor hoarsely rasps, leaning in once more to suck her soul. Daphne sucks in a sharp breath, and her Patronus reappears in front of them. The Dementor screams as Daphne’s Arctic Fox attacks it.

Hermione’s Patronus roars, sending wave after wave of white smoke, clearing the lightning and thundering sky of Dementors. The danger gone, their Patroni nuzzle each other, then dissolve at the same time Eto’s magic flares. For a while, only the sounds of their breathing the now still silence of the night.

Looking out across the Black Lake, Hermione sees her Past-Past-Self forming on the dock. Checking on Daphne, she sees the Beta staring at her wand in amazement.

“Better now?” She asks, and Daphne looks up at her, a shy smile pulling at her lips.

“Y-yes. Now, what else should we do?” The Beta asks, bouncing a little. Hermione glances at the Lake, then reaches for her Time-Turner.

“You have to go to the Library,” She says, placing the chain around Daphne’s neck. The Beta’s jaw drops, and she raises shaky hands to grasp the device.

“B-but—won’t that mess with time? I already saw myself—wait, was that _me_ here, and I knew not to look because even I know you can’t see yourself in the past—future?” Daphne babbles, and Hermione smiles, releasing her soothing Alfā pheromones. The Beta’s shoulders drop a fraction.

“I’ve been doing this the whole year, and time hasn’t collapsed. When we’re in the same current timeline, I’ll collect the Time-Turner.” Hermione steps back, giving the Beta space.

“Five turns, and remember, take the fastest way to the Library. The version of me is my Past-Past-Self, and she won’t have any knowledge of our little adventure.” Hermione instructs, and Daphne nods.

“Alright. Okay. I’m going to time travel, okay,” Hermione watches Daphne twist the knobs. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Then Daphne winks out of the Present-Self Hermione’s timeline.

* * *

She only waits a few minutes before Black surfaces from the Lake. Backing up further into the Dark Forest, Hermione won’t risk her Past-Past-Self to spot her. It brings her a thrill of deep satisfaction to watch Black painful drag his broken and battered body up the muddy shore. She’s still amazed that the Alpha is still breathing.

Glancing up at the dock again, Hermione watches her Past-Past-Self disappear. Leaning against a tree, she waits for Black to notice her. It takes some time, the Alpha fainting numerous times before he finally drags himself to the tree line.

His wide and gloppy trail of blood and gore looks like a black train of death. Black struggles to lift his head, but he hisses through his teeth at the sight of her.

“_Y . . . You,_”

“Ah yes, _me_.” Hermione kicks off the tree, closing the distance between them. He struggles to spit at her, but he ends up choking on his blood.

“How fortunate I am to find you, rather than an Auror, or perhaps your new companions; the Dementors.” Hermione drawls, and Black has enough oxygen in his punctured lungs to wheeze:

“_F . . . Fuck . . . You . . . Bi . . . Bitch,_”

She kicks him in the jaw, the cracking sound music to her ears. Black strains to hold in his whimper, but he can’t.

“I see Azkaban hasn’t helped your civil manners at all,” Hermione scoffs, unsheathing her wand. Black head sinks against the wet mud, for his strength is starting to fail him.

“Now,” She crouches, flipping her wand over her fingers. Using the metal hook to raise Black’s chin, she stares into his weak, black eyes.

“You’re going to tell me what I’ve been _dying_ to know,” She purrs, unleashing her Thrall on him.

* * *

Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban on the slim hope that Dementors couldn’t sense animals. That’s what Remus had quickly told him before the Aurors tossed him straight into the bloody prison. He, the technical Head of House Black, jailed without even a fair trail. Although with Dumbledore ruling, it wouldn’t be fair.

He digressed.

The Dementors took his ability to think, to rationalize. Even with the few months spent inside those magical absorbing stone hell, he forgot how to love. He forgot a great many things, and even now he’s still struggling to remember.

Although he’ll never forget how Peter Pettigrew, their old friend, fellow Marauder stormed into the Potter’s kitchen. He remembered Lily screaming, attacking Pettigrew like an avenging angel. He remembered James roaring, his Alpha pheromones blasting out as he dueled Death Eaters.

He remembered listening to James for once and snatching up Harry to safety, but they never even made it to the street. More Death Eaters were waiting for him, and he went down, losing himself to the Black Bloodlust, carving out a swath of carnage in his wake. When he came to his senses, he looked down at his blood soaked hands, and started to laugh hysterically.

He looked around at the Muggle town he suddenly found himself in, and his laughter grew. That was how the Aurors found him, crackling madly from the cold pain of betrayal and trickery. Pettigrew was always skilled in Illusionary magic. So fast forwards to the unlife in hell, he managed to claw his way up from his own mind when he heard the news.

His packmate, Remus, was a hero. Thoughts of his godson filled his head, and before the Dementors could come and throw him back into his mind, he shifted. It had been so long, his bones creaked, and he was so underfed he easily slipped through the bars. He loped through the halls, the Dementors turning to face him as he passed, but none followed.

They were confused, and he used it to his advantage. With his nose, he easily evaded the Auror guards, and then began the longest, hardest journey of his life. He swam in the direction he assumed Norway was. Time was meaningless, and the salty water made his hunger even more unfathomable.

His body, already weak from abuse, just stopped at one point, and he slipped under the water. However, luck was on his side. Some Muggle fishermen had hauled him onto their boat, and pounded the water from his lungs. They healed him, and took him back to Norway.

He didn’t want to leave the Muggles without repaying them for their kindness, but he had to. He couldn’t allow the Norway Ministry catching wind of him and turning him over to his Ministry. Even though he was still weak, he shifted, and Apparated. It took a short week to Apparate or illegally procure Portkeys back to Britain, and he felt like a sick dog the entire time.

However he knew he had a mission, so he pushed himself. He kept reading the Daily Prophet, checking up on his pack. It infuriated him that Pettigrew got away this time, and he vowed he would kill the traitorous rat the second he got the chance. When he heard of Remus’ employment at Hogwarts, he knew where he had to go.

He did get sloppy as he made his way through Scotland, and he had to Apparate away as soon as the witch saw him. The Aurors swarmed the area while he hid in his Animagus form. He trekked his way to Hogwarts in that form, shifting back to remind himself who he was.

He knew that Hogwarts would be tricky to infiltrate with the Dementors now guarding it. He killed a deer at the thought of those foul demons anywhere near the innocent minds of the students. So to Hogsmeade he went. It’s ridiculous how easy it was for him to steal a cloak, but his paranoia made him jumpy.

He had a right to be, for the Dementors occasionally flew overhead much to the many shopper’s horror. On a whim, he entered the Three Broomsticks, foolishly hoping to see Harry amongst the visiting Hogwarts students. Brooding, he sipped from his tankard, and glanced a pair of Slytherins.

He had to restrain his growl at them, but it was hard since one was the unholy progeny of his cousin, Narcissa. Little whiny Draco who surprisingly never got his new lisp fixed. He had glared at the brat join his gang from under his hood. It was a large group, and his lip curled when he thought of them terrorizing the school.

He digressed again.

He didn’t realize he had been spotted until a Slytherin girl ousted him, and once more he had to flee. Hiding in the Dark Forest for a few days, he gathered his wits about him and entered the castle itself. Loping through its familiar halls, he felt uncomfortable, as if Hogwarts’ itself found him distasteful.

He tried to find Remus, but couldn’t. So he searched for Harry, and when he reached the Fat Lady, he tried every password he knew. His frustration that had simmered under his skin exploded, and he lashed out at the portrait. Of course he had to flee once word from the portraits got loose.

Sulking in the Dark Forest once more, he plotted his next attempt to contact Remus, when he was found by the Werewolf instead. Under the full moon, they romped around, joy sparking in his chest for the first time in what seemed like years.

The next day, he finally spoke to Remus, and they devised a plan. However, Sirius Black was never one to wait around idly. He waited until the right night, and when a storm came, he acted. He knew that Pettigrew would be around Hogwarts, since the coward wouldn’t run anywhere else.

Prowling through the halls, he had to hide from a Slytherin girl out after curfew. He vaguely remembered her as the Alpha girl that Harry invited over a few years back. He glared after her retreating form, questions about who she was with at these late hours stirring in his head.

He never liked her to begin with, this he remembered. She was too still, too guarded. Her unnatural eyes held secrets and to his nose, she reeked of dark magic. So he followed her, and in the Slytherin Common Room, he found Pettigrew. The rat startled so hard, it fell off the table and he gave chase.

He lost himself to his Black Bloodlust once more, and so when he saw that same Slytherin girl with Pettigrew, he just acted. Pettigrew had provided an illusion of a snake to distract him, but he destroyed it, and that’s when he realized his mistake. In his hast to flee the magic of a broken Familiar bond, he lost Pettigrew.

The next days in the Dark Forest were lonely. He huddled in his cave, avoiding the Centaurs that patrolled and the wild magic that kept brewing around Hogwarts. He apparently even missed the Dementors’ attack on the Quidditch match. Soon the break is upon Hogwarts, and he isn’t any closer to his revenge.

Although he does get to spend time with Remus, who tearfully informed him of their Alpha’s untimely death. He had raged at that, swearing vengeance on Pettigrew. Then his thoughts turned to Harry, and he knew he had to speak with his godson and comfort him. When he was scouting Hogwarts, he met a nice Albino Mouse Familiar, who told him about Pettigrew’s new hiding place in the Kitchens.

Hurrying down there, he couldn’t enter with all the House-Elves there. But when he returned the next day, the Mouse Familiar was dead, and he knew it was Pettigrew’s doing. He also tried to stalk that Slytherin girl, but she was heavily protected by her House. But he wasn’t the only thing watching her, for he catch sight of some dark creature staring at her after a Quidditch match.

He had growled at it, and the creature had fled into the skies. It unnerved him enough to retreat into the castle, where he found a parchment with the list of passwords. He could hardly suppress his urge to race through the halls, and after curfew, he crept up to the Gryffindor tower.

Hoping the passwords were for the right tower, he read them off, the portrait opening for him. He raced into the tower to Harry’s side, but he miscalculated again. Harry’s Beta awoke, screaming when he saw him, and so, Sirius had to flee once more. Biding his time, he stalks around Hogwarts, trying to figure out how to best lure out Pettigrew.

He tried during the final Quidditch match, but that didn’t work. The rat was no where to be seen. On exam day, he was moping around the Whomping Willow, when Pettigrew ran right into his paws. However Harry’s Beta snatched the rat up before he could. Roaring, he grabbed the Beta’s leg to drag him into the Shrieking Shack.

He should of known that the Beta’s scream would attract his pack. So when he locked eyes with the Slytherin girl, he knew that he was going to have to fight.

* * *

Hermione lifts the bloodied hook from Black’s flesh, picking apart his story in her head. Wiping his blood off on the grass, she stands. Black’s back is a shredded mess of gouges, courtesy of her metal hook. He fell unconscious a little after he stopped speaking, bleeding out to death.

Tapping her lips, she ponders on what to do with his body. He obviously felt no guilt in killing her Familiar, and never liked her as well. She wants him to hurt more. Not physically, since he’s done his fair share of that, no, she wants him hurting magically. A feral smile lights up her face, and she stands.

Aiming her hands at him, her Thrall, already thick about them, answers. It coats Black’s body, stitching wounds back together, replenishing blood, mending bones and sinews. In seconds, his body is perfectly fine. Sheathing her wand, she smirks as he starts to stir.

“Sirius Orion Black,” She calls, and he lifts his head up at her, blinking rapidly.

“Your magic owes me a _Life-Debt,_” She purrs, and his eyes widen as their magic glow around their bodies, acknowledging the oath. He snarls, lunging at her, but yelps as he convulses, crumpling to the ground. Her smirk grows wider as her eyes morph goat-green.

A snicker escapes her mouth, and she starts to howl with laughter as Black tries again and again to attack her, only to fail.

“Oh do keep trying Bond-Breaker,” Her eyes flare brighter, and she lashes forwards, gripping his chin hard and tilting it to face her. His own magic forces him to freeze. She smirks at him, showing rows of morphed, sharpened teeth.

“Who’s the bitch now?” She whispers mockingly, while Black roars.

* * *

Skipping back to Hogwarts, even the Minister’s presence doesn’t put a damper on her good mood. Professor Snape glowers at her as she passes, he and the Minister falling silent. Slinking into the Hospital Wing, she leaves the door open a crack, listening to their conversation as she walks over to Luna’s side.

“As I was saying, your tale is truly fascinating, but what of the students?” Minister Riddle drawls in a bored tone.

“They are being cared for by their House Head’s, while Miss Lovegood, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley rest under Madam Pomfrey’s jurisdiction.”

“Interesting.” There’s silence.

“Did you see what Patronus drove the Dementors away?”

“No. Mrs. Potter came by, claiming Black is innocent.”

“You do have to consider the very much alive, shackled, Peter Pettigrew.” Minister Riddle drawls.

“Yes. There is that.” Professor Snape’s growl is flat. Hermione grasps the Gamma’s hand, feeling the slightest twitch in response. Luna’s paler than usual, whatever magic she channeled taking more out of than Hermione expected. She has so many questions, but she doubts that she’ll get a clear answer out of her Bounded-Vassal.

Looking over at Harry and Ron, she notes the Beta’s wrapped leg, while Harry looks like he’s sleeping peacefully. The voices outside rise, and she listens in again.

“It seems, that Sirius Black very well may be on the path towards redemption,” Dumbledore’s voice says heartily.

“I still stand by what I said,” Professor Snape hisses heatedly. There’s silence at his remark, and then Hermione hears Professor Snape storming away.

“I shall take Peter Pettigrew back with me, Headmaster.” Minister Riddle drawls, and Dumbledore hums, his footsteps walking away.

“And what of Sirius’ fate?” Dumbledore asks, and Minister Riddle stops.

“If he shows up, I shall pardon him. Until then, he’s still convicted.” He sighs, already bored, and the Minister stalks away.

* * *

The next morning the castle is empty, for everyone except the pack are at Hogsmeade. Hermione takes a peek at the House points, and Slytherin is leagues ahead of the rest. Gathering the pack in the Library, she lays out her vendetta against Black. They all decide that while her actions were a tad dramatic, she was technically in the right.

Even Harry begrudgingly agrees how she reacted was alright in the moment. He and Ron are still sour from their demotion in social status. Meanwhile Ginny is flourishing as the new King of Gryffindor, and is currently surveying her House for a Queen. Neville apparently will stay The Beta.

Ginny’s new rise isn’t the only news buzzing through Hogwarts’ halls. Professor Lupin is outed as a Werewolf by Professor Snape, and gossip about Black’s impending trail in the summer. Hermione’s not going to see Black officially pardoned, even though everyone assumes he’ll ditch his own trial.

Also waiting for his trial, Pettigrew is being held in Azkaban for his which is some time after the International Quidditch Cup. And finally, to add to the chaotic feel, the student’s exam results come in early. In the Revols’ room, they share their results.

“Astronomy, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, DADA, Herbology, History of Magic, Muggle Studies, Potions, and Transfiguration all ’hundred percent. You got a pass in your Patronus lessons, and a ninety-eight in Divination—blimey, Lurch! You’re a bloody genius!” Harold exclaims. Hermione smirks.

“Time-Turner.” She replies, and Luna smiles at her.

“See? It worked out,” She says dreamily.

“Are you allowed to keep it?” Neville asks curiously, leaning against one of the many variety of pillows covering the floor. He glances up at the ceiling, a smile quirking on his face. Hermione and Luna found the charm to do it, and once they cast it, the room with the Revols’ HQ ceiling was like the Great Hall’s.

“No, so I have to drop two classes.”

“Like Divination and Muggle Studies?” Neville asks. Hermione winks at him.

“Correct.”

“That’s a relief, who knows how much time you added chronologically,” Harold says sagely. Hermione just shrugs, leaning back to gaze at the stars on the ceiling. Luna scoots over, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s propped up knees.

“So, the Quidditch World Cup is this summer, what do you say, we go all together? My father can get tickets,” Neville sits up, energized. Hermione hums, stroking Luna’s hair.

“I’d love to go with you all.” Luna says airily.

“I can come too,” Hermione smiles. Harold ducks his head, sighing dejectedly.

“Sorry guys—”

“Oh! We can pick you up, I know the Weasley’s are going, they’d love to take you!” Neville interjects, and Harold’s smile brightens up his face.

— . —

_First most powerful magical oath tying the indebted’s life and magic to invoker, indebted can not harm invoker in any form until the debt is matched_ = Life-Debt

_Speculum Caelo_ = Enchanted Ceiling Charm (Latin: Mirror Sky)


	9. Summer Of Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s up with Bellatrix? Who’s Vyvian? These are things Hermione wants to know!

Hermione wakes up in her own room with a start, her heart pumping. Morphing back from her Soul Form, she staggers to her bedside table. Reaching through the numerous wards to the Skull Hookah. As soon as her fingers touch the skull, its voice whispers in her mind.

_. . . Yes . . . Use me . . . You see . . ._

Sitting up, Hermione inhales slowly. The sharp bitter cold breathing through her body. The numbness creeps up on her, and she shudders, holding the feeling as long as she can.

Leaning forwards, she blows out, the intense warmth warming her up, chasing away any lingering cold. Sighing, she watches the yellow smoke billow out through her room, the images starting to appear.

* * *

_The images are moving through tall grass. Thinking back to the second use of the Skull Hookah, she was Eros—she saw through his eyes. Now the saying motion and the proximity to the ground makes sense. This snake she’s looking through keeps slithering through the grass, no end in sight. Hermione hears a distant voice, commanding, but comforting._

_The snake rises itself taller in the grass, surveys the dark, ominous woods. Voices talk behind it, but the snake pays them no heed. Turning, the snake looks at a dank looking house. Slithering through the open door, it slithers low to the floor, passing the legs of chairs and furniture to a carpeted area._

_“Do you know who I am?”Hermione hears Minister Riddle’s distinct voice. The snake looks up, showing the Minister speaking to an empty couch. But Hermione gets the sense that the snake can hear someone there. _

_“Yes,” A hoarse voice whispers reverently._

_≠ “Are you ready to risk everything for me?” ≠ Minister Riddle murmurs, the snake wrapping itself around an offered arm. The snake coils around his shoulders, staring at the indentation in the couch. Minister Riddle reaches in the air, pulling an Invisibility Cloak off. A young, dishevled looking man sits there, panting._

_≠ “Yes, Our Lord. It’s my dream. My greatest ambition, to serve you, to prove my worth to you.” ≠ The young man whispers, looking up at Minister Riddle with an expression of a mortal seeing their God. It oddly reminds Hermione of how Astoria looks at her.A tongue flicks into view once._

_“I have need of you, ≠ my faithful servant, at Hogwarts.” ≠ Minister Riddle says, and the young man nods frantically._

_“Of course, Our Lord.”The snake turns her head with Minister Riddle’s to look over to a dark corner of the dank house._

_‡_Come here my dear, let my ssservent lay eyesss on you,_‡ Minister Riddle croons in Parseltongue. Hermione’s eyes widen when she sees a deranged looking Bellatrix Black. She’s still the hauntingly enchanting beauty, a dominant figure rival to the Minister, but something is different. This Black sways a bit as she stands, and her black eyes are duller, flat, instead of the sharpness that was once there._

_A raven skull necklace glitters slyly against her fair skin._

_‡_Ssso thisss isss the ssservant we need, Our Lord?_‡ Bellatrix hisses, sneering at the young man who stares at her in the same reverence he beheld the Minister._

_‡_I have a gift for you, Our Lord,_‡ She bows low, and with a flick of her wand, Pettigrew comes flying out of the darkness of the house, prostrating himself at her feet. She sends a nasty hex at his face, the Omega rat squealing. The young man’s expression turns disgusted._

_‡_NOT ME YOU UGLY RAT! BOW TO OUR LORD!_‡ She screams, her magic forcing Pettigrew to turn to Minister Riddle._

_“My dear, the rat does not understand the Pure Tongue, and neither does my servant.” Minister Riddle drawls, amused. The snake turns its face back towards the young man._

_‡Remember not to kill the rat,‡ Minister Riddle sighs, bored, and the images swirl, disappearing to black._

* * *

Hermione blinks, not sure what to make of what she just witnessed. Holding her head, she places the Skull Hookah back in it’s wards. She just doesn’t know anything about the Skull Hookah, how it works and what it does. Perhaps a visit to Gellert Grindelwald will give her answers. Suddenly, Cobra pops into her room, struggling to hold a small thrashing owl.

Y-Young Mistress! The owl wouldn’t part with the letter! Cobra squeaks in Gaëla, distressed. Err’sh flies through the open window, whistling his displeasure.

*Hermione Cage-Breaker this puny owlet kicked me in the face!* He whistles. Ignoring his fluffed up, pissed off stance, she jumps off the bed and catching the struggling Scoops Owl. Holding it by it’s tiny legs, she sighs when she recognizes Ginny’s new owl. Taking the letter the size of it’s body, she gives a firm shake to the bird.

*Pigwidgeon behave!* She trills sharply, the owl freezing

*Sorry Breaker,* He hoots in his high pitched voice. Setting him next to Err’sh, the Lammergeier looms over him, wings slightly flared menacingly, yet the Scoops Owl isn’t fazed. He merely chirps happily, fluffing himself up he looks like an extra puffy grey Snitch. Opening the letter, she reads Ginny’s neat scrawl.

_Hello Hermione!_

_Dad got our tickets for the Quidditch World Cup! It’s ≠ Ireland vs Bulgaria! Monday night! ≠ You’ll be there right? Harry and Luna are coming to the Burrow at five on Sunday. We already picked up Harold, and Merlin, his Dad and older brother are complete arses! Also Neville is coming with his parents and Gran._

_You’re coming right? Also did you get Harry’s letter?! His Mum is being buddy-buddy with Snape! Harry said that the Beta might move into their own house! Snape as a roommate! Hope to see you at the Cup!_

_Your packmate and the King of Gryffindor,_

_Lady GinnyWeasley_

_(Her seal, two weasels chasing each other)_

_P.S. Ron demanded that I tell Err’sh not to eat Pig, but I know he wont’t._

_P.P.S. Could you feed him though? I don’t know how long his flight was!_

Sighing, it seems Ron still hasn’t gotten over accusing Err’sh about killing Scabbers. She already told them it was Pettigrew. Although she’s not sure if Ginny’s choice of Familiar is exactly up to par. Scoops Owls aren’t built for long distance travel. Hearingmenacing beak clicking, Hermione looks over to see Err’sh still trying to intimidate the much smaller owl.

*Err’sh, Pigwidgeon,* She tweets, both birds looking at her.

*You,* She points to Err’sh. *Don’t prostrate, and you,* Hermione points at Pigwidgeon.

*Stop provoking him.* Err’sh clacks his beak disapprovingly, but settles his feathers.

*Of course Breaker of Death’s Bones!* Pigwidgeon trills, Err’sh preening at the title. Penning a quick reply, she looks at Cobra, gesturing him forwards.

_Ginny,_

_Don’t send Pigwidgeon all the way over here, he’s not made for international travel. As for Harry’s domestic life, I am sure that Mrs. Potter will need all the support she can get._

_I also have no doubt you’ll see me at the Cup._

_Sincerely,_

_H. E. Mendonica_

_(Her seal, a giant serpent devouring a terrified human figure)_

Do you know where the Burrow is? Hermione squeaks, handing the letter to Cobra. He closes his eyes, then nods.

Good. Take Pigwidgeon there after he’s been fed, I don’t think he can last another flight this far out.

Yes Young Mistress! Cobra squeaks, disappearing with the Scoops Owl with a pop. A knock on her door sounds, and she opens it magically with a flick of her hand. Monisel Delacour leans sideways across the doorway, looking bored.

»Madame Mendonica requests your presence in the Sun Wing, her office,« She drawls, flicking nonexistent lint off her shoulder before she leaves. Hermione snorts at the Veela Alpha’s devil-may-care attitude, very sure it has won her many enemies. Err’sh flaps over to her side, landing on her outstretched arm.

Hermione wonders what Eto wants from her, and if it pertains to the blood sample she gave in the beginning of the summer. She passes the Dinning Hall, new memories stirring. Ever since she got back a month ago, Eto unofficially ordered the whole family dine together.

Eto sits at the head of the table naturally. On her right, Hermione, Annie, and Claire sit in that order. On her left, Juin, Elise, Monisel, Asiar, and Tarwin sit, likewise in that order. Continuing on her way, Hermione moves to the center of the hall where the arched ceilings are taller.

As of recently, Hermione’s been going through a growth spurt, making her coordination slightly out of kilter. Eto’s had to readjust her training—again. Hermione’s grown a good ten centimeters, now at one-hundred-ninety centimeters tall, she’s almost the same as Eto.

And secretly she hopes she’ll get taller than her mother one day.

With this new growth, it’s somehow stimulating Hermione’s hormones, adding to her bodily chaos. Luckily, the Delacour siblings step up. After witnessing Hermione silently scream into a pillow over a trivial thing, her magic spiraling out of control, and her Alfā pheromones thick in the air, they offer their expertise on control.

Hermione knows that she’ll need it if she’s going to be surrounded by hormonal students. She’s just concerned that she’s getting a Veela menstruation since she should start in two more years. Anyhow, the Delacour siblings show a whole other view of the world that Hermione wouldn’t dare bring up around any of her family.

Eto . . . That would just be awkward. Juin was off the table for any solid advice without loads of sarcasm and spite. Elise would go into too much detail. Annie and Claire are still going through the phase, and Souci’s side of the family is off limits. The Veela siblings even manage to show Hermione how to morph into her true Veela form.

She can only partially morph her scales-and-feathers; the scales colors of onyx-black-green, and at certain angles of light they shimmer green. Protruding under from each small scale, are vicious, raging-amber color feathers.

Then of course, there’s her carefree energy outlet—Hades. He’s taken to romping around the Mendonica Palace, growing bigger and stronger. Apparently Eto took him to visit The Gate, who has decided to train Hades in whatever The Gate does. Hermione snickers to herself about Hades living up to his name.

When she arrives at Eto’s office, she knocks once on the solid wood. The door swings open on oiled hinges, and she enters. The office is neat, bookshelves lining every square centimeter of wall, filled to the brim. Books, objects, and papers crammed into the shelves.

In the middle, is a great, high black, bone desk, likewise covered mostly with papers and other things. Walking closer, Hermione wonders what creature owned such bones. Eto stands tall, her throne-like chair shaped for wings pushed to the side. Holding up a formal looking letter, she hands it at Hermione.

She takes it carefully, breaking the seal, her eyes widening with every word.

** _Dear The Greatest Fem That I’ve Ever Flown With,_ **

** **

** _I tested the sample you sent me, and as you requested, destroyed the records of it after. To be frank, it was damn hard to get around the database, you know how protective of their donors they are. Anyway, here it is:_ **

** **

** _Blood Donor Receipt to The Witching Hours, French Hospital_ **

** _Donor:Lady [REDACTED] of House [REDACTED]_ **

** _Blood type: Alpha/Alfā?_ **

** _Age: 13-17?_ **

** _Line: Mendonica, Black? (Something Rozanica damned European that’s for sure)_ **

** _Health: no known diseases found, although your donor has been smoking something with unknown magical properties, and seems to be going through a exponential growth spurt (you aren’t experimenting with breeding are you?)._ **

** _Magic: stable._ **

** **

** _To the Donor’s legal authorization of the use of a Time-Turner for academic purposes, the results of the extra time added to the Donor’s blood-body-mind-magic are as affected:_ **

  1. **_Blood — No grains of time-sand found, cleared. Signatures of Mendonica House blood due to Blood-Adoption. Spike of abnormal height gene mutation most likely contributed from Mendonica House Signature. Found past heavy residue of magical smoke drugs, speculated to have used twice. Legal rights of Mendonica House._**
  2. **_Body — Unusually tall for age pre-Time-Turner usage. Showing symptoms of slow-to-rapid growth. Data of subject’s physical body from pre-Time-Turner usage is twelve years, eleven months, one week, five days, three hours, fifty-three minutes, and nineteen seconds. Data of Donor’s body after post-Time-Turner usage is an additional four years, two months, three weeks, five days, three hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-five seconds. Also includes the three exact years that the subject obtained in only a span of three hours._**
  3. **_Mind — Highly intelligent and mature pre-Time-Turner usage. Highly hypothesized magically impossible to enter the subject’s mind. Hypothesized Dark Creatures may “shake” the Donor’s mind into instability and bouts of extreme emotion. Unable to process mental stability. On watch list for potential unstable mental health._**
  4. **_Magic — Exponentially “large” currents. Consistant growth all throughout body, mostly in essential blood pathways.Above Adult-Maturity and below Senior-Maturity, though unclear of where in between. Hypothesized highly unstable if provoked._**

** **

** _Conclusion from Spell Damage, Fourth Floor: highly advise no further usage of any Time-Turner and to never willingly come into contact with Dementors. As the final chronicle-physical-mental-magical ages of the Donor are:_ **

  1. **_Chronicle — Current linear age is seventeen years, three months two weeks, five days, thirteen hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-nine seconds as of July 31st, 1994._**
  2. **_Physical — Current physical age is unclear due to abnormal height gene. We estimate the Donor may look between seventeen to nineteen years old in average Mendonica measurements. Meaning the subject may look between twenty to twenty-two in average Wizarding measurements._**
  3. **_Mental — Error, inapplicable due to inaccessibility of the mind. Hypothesized possible adult mentality mixed with possible genius level, thirteen year old tantrums._**
  4. **_Magical — Current magical age is that above Mature Adult and below Senior Maturity, though unclear of where in between. Highly hypothesized near the latter._**

** **

** _I hope you know what you’re doing with all this Fem._ **

** **

** _Yours Forever Love,_ **

** _Vyvian Mendonica_ **


	10. Summer In The Empty Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione’s mini-adventures at the QWC begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, it’s about time I give a kudo to my Beta reader, Travler1212, for being an awesome Beta reader!

Hermione looks up, staring at Eto, a range of emotions rushing through her. Eto takes Hermione’s hands in hers, her eye shining with pride.

»What Vyvian didn’t say is that your inner Veela will become fully active, more vocal. Your baser instincts rapidly speeding up to catch up with your body which is merely pushing itself to be one the same level with your magic. I won’t lie; maturation stage will leave you an emotional, temporal wreck.« Eto says.

Hermione blinks, and looks down at her paper again.

»I’m of age according to Wizarding law, and the Trace won’t affect my wand as well,« Hermione says. Eto thinks that over.

»Then you shall learn to Apparate Petite Présage. [Little Omen.] Now listen carefully, an . . . Event shall occur all over the Magical world,« Eto is staring at her hard, Hermione starts feeling uneasy under the one burning amber-blue-eyed gaze.

»I take it you don’t want me to participate?« She asks nervously. A dangerous smile breaks out across the half of Eto’s face.

»On the contrary, I want you to _win_ it.«

* * *

Today’s August first, and Hermione is all packed to go to the Quidditch World Cup. Eto easily manages to get tickets for Hermione, Juin, Elise, Annie, Claire, Monisel, Tarwin, Asair, and herself. Juin got tickets for Souci, Abby, and Federico, much to Eto’s displeasure.

All twelve will be one of the first to arrive, as the Cup itself won’t start until the twenty-fifth. At the Mendonica Palace, the twelve group off, each Side-Apparating to the Ministry designated moor. Opening her eyes, Hermione waves the heavy fog around her fingers. She brushes a bit of condensation off her jacket.

All of them wearing their impressive Muggle clothes that screams “_OLD MONEY HERE BEWARE!_” The Mendonica and Delacour women are wearing suits—admittedly with Elise and the twins in blouses—and the Châtillion’s are in formal dress robes. Eto starts walking into the fog, the rest following.

Err’sh shivers in Hermione’s arms, feathers fluffing up against the moisture. They soon come across a bored woman with a clipboard. When she sees them, she does a double take, hurriedly scribbling something on her clipboard.

“Three past seven from Tingston Fore,” She says breathlessly, her eyes roving between the Veela family.

“Erm, Mendonica and Châtillion, ≠ First field you come to, site manager is Mr. Roberts.” ≠ She says, her eyes lingering on Hermione dreamily. Monisel elbows Hermione, and she jerks, realizing her pheromones were oozing out around the woman. Hastily redrawing them, the witch blinks, a bit confused. She’ll have to work on her control.

The families walk a quarter of a mile in the pointed direction until they see a man standing in front of a cottage. Beyond the cottage gates a whole empty field, dotted sparsely with a few tents.

“Oh!” His eyes glaze over when he sees them, but they keep flicking to Eto’s half mask. The Epsilon starts to drool. Hermione rolls her eyes, looking at the list tacked on the door, keeping her pheromones controlled. It’s worse than that witch.

“We’re at the top of the hill.” Hermione says, looking over and memorizing the campsite map from the dazed Mr. Roberts. Annie snickers, waving her hand in front of the Epsilon. Claire sighs, but the Delacour siblings sniff disdainfully. They walk through the empty fields, hiking up the short but steep hill to their spot.

There’s three wooden posts equidistant from each other.Hermione reads the one to their left. _BLACK_. A grand, solid black tent already is staked down, the flag with the Black crest flying on it. On their right, is _WEASLEY_. Empty. Eto takes out a tiny folded triangle. She unfolds it, once, twice, thrice, and tosses it behind their wooden post.

A large white tent snaps into place, modest, plain, the flag with their Mendonica crest magically flapping in the nonexistent winds. Entering, Hermione explores the ten-person flat. In the center is a large chamber for hosting and relaxing. Branching off from it, are the ten bedrooms, the kitchen for the House-Elves, and five full bathrooms.

In each bedroom, there’s a personal exit, but only capable of leaving. Err’sh takes off into the skies, surveying the moor. The House-Elves are already there, tidying up the tent and getting ready for the kitchen. Claiming the bedroom opposite of the main entrance—Cobra appears with her trunk in her new room—Hermione reclines in one of the lobby chairs, only to have Annie and Claire throw themselves on top of her.

»Say Tante, [Aunt,]« Claire says coyly on Hermione’s lap, snuggling closer to her. Annie leans on her from her perch on the chair’s arm.

»Yes Claire?« Hermione replies, not sure what they want now.

»Want to come with us to get a feel of the campsite?« Annie whines, letting most of her weight press down on Hermione’s shoulder.

»Please?« They say in chorus, giving her simpering smiles to which Hermione is immune to. Sighing, she nods. The only way for the trio to let her have some peace is to obey their wishes. The twins smirk triumphantly.

»Get over here Châttillion! She said yes!« Annie yells over to Abby, the older Veela skipping over to them. Her nieces like that she’s older now, because even though familial ties she’s their aunt, she was always a kid to them. Now they can “properly have fun with her”, or so Annie declared.

“Girls! What did I tell you about speaking out loud so everyone can hear?” Elise says sternly, hands on her hips. The effect is lost with Elise wearing the “She Fucked the Chef” apron on. Hermione watches as Elise looks down confused at their giggles, and the second word changes to “Kissed”.

Federico rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. Hermione thinks he doesn’t mind their Veela communications. Abby jogs out of her room, hugging her father before heading for the entrance of the tent.

“Of course Elise, our apologies, we are going out,” Hermione says, shooing the twins off her. Elise’s face melts back into her go easy one.

“Oh alright, but take your wands with you, and don’t for—” The Veela twins push Hermione out before Elise can finish her sentence, shouting reassurances over their shoulders. Snickering softly amongst themselves, they slide down the hill, walking through the empty fields.

Half-closing her eyes, she feels along the Bounded-Vassal bond, finding the Delacour siblings in the skies.

»I can’t imagine what it will feel like to share all this with Wizarding people,« Abby sighs.

»Probably really stinky.« Annie snickers.

»Not all of them are that bad,« Claire argues, looking at Hermione.

»Kind of wished we didn’t dress this fancy, there’s no one to impress,« Abby groans.

»We can always rewear them—clean of course come the final day.« Hermione offers.

»The same clothes in the same week, the horror!« Claire gasps dramatically. They walk leisurely up to Mr. Robert’s cottage.

»But in all seriousness, the best way to learn control—« Claire starts.

»—is by playing.« Annie finishes. Hermione blinks at the admission. Abby nods.

»It’s true.« As they near the cottage, they hear sounds of children and a mother.

»I didn’t know he was married,« Abby mutters.

»It’s no big deal.« Annie scoffs.

»Do you feel that?« Hermione says, silencing the other three Veela. They lean in, fingers brushing the air. The cottage is warded.

“And just what do you four think you’re doing?” A sharp voice barks behind them.

* * *

Turning in unison, they automatically adapt their indifferent, Veela superiority expressions. Hermione recognizes Alpha Bellatrix Black immediately, and it takes a few seconds for her to place Hermione.

“Oh, so it’s you again,” Bellatrix sneers, her eyes flicking over to Annie, Claire, and Abby respectively, evaluating them silently.

“Who are they?”

Annie scowling, looking away, making the Alpha bristle at the silent rejection.

“My nieces, Abby Châttillion, and Annie and Claire Mendonica,” She gestures to each of them. Bellatrix narrows her eyes at them.

“You’ve sprouted since the last time we met,” Bellatrix says warily, but it’s Claire who shrugs.

“Veela grow taller than Wizarding people do,”

“Of course,” Bellatrix says silkily. “And they change from a gangly thirteen year old to twenty year old in a single year. How mysterious, is that another Veela secret?” Her nieces’ hackles raise.

“It’s pleasant out here, isn’t it?” Hermione says, drawing Bellatrix’s attention back to her.

“It’s empty.”

“Exactly. We don’t have to deal with rude stares.” Hermione says smoothly, keeping her voice even.

“Say, would you like a cup of tea? As a British neighborly thing to do of course,” Abby chimes in. Bellatrix looks at the Omega with dark eyes, and Hermione tilts her body a smidge forwards. Annie and Claire aren’t subtle, and they step in front of Abby to shield her.

“You could even tell us about the Cup this year!” Claire chirps, picking up the conversation.

“At your discretion, we’ll keep politics away from our talks as much as possible,” Annie says, the four of them starting to walk around Bellatrix. Hermione sees a dark flare in her black eyes when she realizes she’s the shortest one there, and that her nieces aren’t even trying to hide the fact they’re leaning over her.

“I haven’t accepted.” She says tightly. The other three Veela pause, looking to Hermione, they already making their way to the tent.

“Pardon me, but do you wish to decline our invitation?” Hermione asks, raising an eyebrow. Bellatrix drums her fingers on her arm, then stalks forwards, brushing past them all. Quickly following her, they all share tense looks.

»Good thinking Tante [Aunt],« Claire whispers.

»But why tea?! Now we’ll be forced to be hospitable!« Annie grumbles.

»I was trying to not get in trouble.« Abby retorts.

»What trouble, we were just curious about the wards!« Claire says exasperatedly.

»The Brits are suspicious folk, especially Wizarding Brits,« Abby soothes.

»Tell that to Mum, she doesn’t like _her_,« Annie groans.

»Just go with the currents,« Hermione says softly.

* * *

Entering the tent, the four Veela stop to watch the stand off between Bellatrix and Eto. They’re standing too close, yet far enough to still be within their respective personal space. Both of them stare at each other like predators sizing each other up. If Bellatrix is uncomfortable about showing her throat to glare at Eto’s eye, then she doesn’t show it.

It’s the Malfoy Manor all over again, but unlike Lord Malfoy, Bellatrix doesn’t look away. Hermione ushers the three Veela into the sides of the tent, Juin’s purple-green eyes follow them.

»What have you done?« Juin hisses, and Elise’s hand on her shoulder tightens. Souci merely stands to the side with her husband, arms crossed as they watch the two powerful House Heads mentally war with each other.

»Nothing.« Hermione replies.

»_Yet,_« Comes the scathing reply.

»Peace, sister,« Souci murmurs.

“A pleazure meeting your acquaintanze, Lady Black, pray, where iz your Lord Huzband?” Eto says silkily, her biting words giving off warning signals to all the Veela. Federico sets his quill down, staring unabashedly at them. Bellatrix’s narrows her eyes a bit.

“Happily not married, _Madame Mendonica_. Although I wonder if you offed yours.” Is the curt reply. The tension skyrockets.

“Iz that how you think of me?” Eto arranges her face in mock surprise, unruffled by the accusation. The Veela Alfā cuts in before Bellatrix can get another scathing word in.

“I hear you were promized tea,” Eto purrs, Un appearing with a platter of filled teacups.

“. . . Tea does sounds pleasant.” Bellatrix says just as smoothly.

* * *

There’s an uncomfortable heat in the tent when Eto and Bellatrix fall into the subtle pleasantries of simple talk mixed with probes and silent parries of Court speech. They sit at the same table, ignoring the rest of them. Err’sh soars into the tent, landing in Hermione’s lap, having sensed her nervousness.

But then—if she wasn’t watching the pair from under her eyelashes, she would of missed it—a feral grin of primal hunger flashes across Eto’s face when Bellatrix glances at Err’sh. When the Alpha turns back, it’s gone, as if it was never there. Looking around, she realizes that only Federico noticed as well.

Retiring to her room, she picks up a few books Cobra brought, reading. The others are entertaining themselves together in Abby’s room. When the sun goes down, and the fog gone, she walks to the kitchen. Err’sh flaps after her, landing on the island counter. Hermione smiles at Cobra.

Young Mistress! Would yous want a drink?! Hermione nods. Cobra snaps his fingers, a glass of açaí juice appearing. Sipping it, she leans against the island counter. The breeze blows, and she smells Bellatrix. Cobra stiffens, scurrying to stand by her ankles as the other Elves clear out. The Alpha stalks towards Hermione, eyeing Err’sh distrustfully.

“Is there something you wish to ask of me, Lady Black?” Hermione asks.

“I could just be enjoying the silence.” Bellatrix snarks back.

“You could, but I would wonder what inspired that need.” Hermione says. Bellatrix snorts, and looks her up and down, her eyes calculating.

“Are you still _thirteen?_” She asks skeptically, and Hermione shrugs, taking a swig of her açaí.

“Late birthday.”

Bellatrix’s eyes grow dark with suspicion.

“As I recall, Familiars such as your Lammergeier aren’t sold in Diagon Alley,” Bellatrix says off handedly.

“He’s simply unique.” Hermione drawls. She wonders why Bellatrix follows Minister Riddle, and is that facet of her the _real_ Bellatrix. Bellatrix hums, gives them a last once over, then prowls out, her dress flowing.

* * *

The next few days of the week goes on like that; Bellatrix coming over for morning tea with Eto until lunch, when she then leaves to do Ministry business. Tentativly, under Eto’s subtle hints, Hermione starts to warm to Bellatrix. They already had a steady base for a friendship: her trip to Nurmengard Castle. Well, in Hermione’s case that is; the Alpha might not remember it quite so fondly.

Hermione doesn’t talk much to Bellatrix, both her visions resurfacing when she sees the Alpha. Slowly and wordlessly, they build a steady acquaintanceship, and yet, something just a bit more. That “_bit_ more” changes on the morning that another large group of wizards arrive.


	11. Summer With Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione encounters Bellatrix again!

High on her _Firebolt_, Hermione circles the newest group in detached curiosity. Their drunken laughter spirals up to her, and fortunately not their breaths. She tilts her head when two men peel off, staggering towards Mr. Robert’s cottage. Narrowing her eyes, she tails them. They stumble to the back entrance, one raising his wand.

The wards on the cottage ripple, opening. Aurors then. Swiftly landing on the roof behind the chimney, the two wizards are too drunk to notice her. Peering down, she sees them fumble with the door handle, when it opens. Hermione wants to smack the young girl away for stupidly opening a door to strange men.

Suddenly one of the men lunges, grabbing the young girl. She screams, but he slaps a hand over her mouth. Hermione doesn’t hesitate when she launches off the roof. The men looks up too late, as she swings her _Firebolt_ like a bat. The twigs slam into the first man’s face, and he howls in surprise and pain. He raises his hands to his bleeding face, letting go of the young girl.

The second man roars, raising his wand, but Hermione swings faster. Pivoting on her heel, she rams her _Firebolt’s_ handle into his sternum. She smirks when she hears the satisfying crack. He lands on his back, wheezing. Kicking his wand away, she gets a solid hit between his legs, and he’s out for the count. The first wizard tries to run, but he can’t see.

Lifting her _Firebolt_, she throws it, the broom flying faster than the wizard can even hope to run—knocking him unconscious when it connects to his head. The _Firebolt_ freezes, hovering with a vibrating tension at her perfect mounting height. Holding her hand out, the broom zooms back into her waiting palm.

Turning to the young Epsilon girl, she’s still on the ground, gapping up at Hermione in awe. Crouching in front of the girl, Hermione checks if the girl is alright, when she leaps to her feet, latching onto her in a tight hug. Cinnamon and spicy fire wafts up to her. Looking over her shoulder, Bellatrix glares disdainfully at the downed Alpha’s.

“I see you’ve met Rod and Rab then.” She growls, then _Stupefies_ and _Obliviates_ the young girl. Catching the slumped body, Bellatrix nods towards the open door, turning to redo the wards, adding more. Walking into the cottage, she sniffs out the young Epsilon’s room, lying her on her bed.

Tucking a stuffed animal in the girl’s arms, Hermione walks out, the wards snapping into place. Bellatrix glowers at the two unconscious wizards, then up at Hermione.

“Why is it that I always find you here?” She growls. Rhetorically Hermione thinks, for Bellatrix whirls around, levitating the Lestrange brothers up. Looking at them, and at her _Firebolt_, the Alpha easily knows what happened.

“At least the dunderheads will miss the Cup, so I suppose I can thank you for that,” She crackles, striding away. Unsure wether to follow, Hermione stands there until Bellatrix looks over her shoulder.

“Hurry up!” She snaps.

Hermione only has to lengthen her stride to match the much shorter Alpha’s.

“I see this pleases you,” Hermione drawls, nearing the Black tent. Bellatrix snorts. Entering the tent, she has an idea what living in death shrine might look like. Black on black on black on, well, more black. Although there’s shiny black, dull black, hard black, soft black, and the like. Bellatrix flings the bodies behind the couch.

“Very pleased.” The Alpha snickers giddily. The inside of the Black tent must have a much grander _Extension Charm_ than the Mendonica’s. Bellatrix saunters to a black plush leather chair, draping herself most unlady-like over it.

“Poppy!” A House-Elf appears in front of Bellatrix, bowing low.

“Tea for two.” She orders, the Elf popping away.

“Sit down—and don’t put the broom on my table,” Hermione takes the chair opposite of Bellatrix, propping her _Firebolt_ against the back. Poppy appears with the tray with two tea cups. Taking one, she swirls it, discreetly sniffing the heavy steam pouring off the liquid. Eyeing Bellatrix, she sees the powerful Alpha is downing her tea in gulps like a child.

If she did put a potion in both cups, she could have taken a counteractive already, or there’s no potion at all. Or only Hermione has the optioned tea. Aware of her sudden paranoia, she banks on the notion that Bellatrix wouldn’t poison her in her own tent. Hermione takes a sip.

Instantly she pushes back her gag reflex, the tea practically made of hot spice in liquid form. Forcing herself to drink calmly, Hermione ignores the burning of her nose and throat. Bellatrix puts her tea down on the coffee table between their chairs.

“Remind me if I’m wrong, but Etoilnaiphas is your mother?”

“My adoptive mother.” Hermione responds, then frowns. She sets her teacup firmly on the coffee table. Narrowing her eyes at the smirking woman, she frowns harder.

“You put _Veritaserum_ in my drink.” Hermione says stiffly. She really should of expected this from a fellow Slytherin. Bellatrix’s smirk grows when Hermione stands.

“And in mine as well.” Hermione’s eyes widen, then sits slowly back down. What is the Alpha up to? Could this be an order from Minister Riddle? She can’t sense if Bellatrix is lying.

“How do I know if you can resist the potion?” She asks. Bellatrix shrugs.

“You don’t.”

Hermione raises an eyebrow.

“That does not inspire confidence about this interrogation.”

“You’re not supposed to feel great,” Bellatrix snorts. “How old are you _really?_”

“Seventeen years, three months, two weeks, five days, thirteen hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-five seconds as of July thirty-first.” Hermione says slowly, delaying the inevitable. Bellatrix blinks.

“That’s specific.” It isn’t a question, so Hermione doesn’t feel compelled to answer.

“How did you do it?”

“Time-Turner.” Bellatrix’s eyes light up, but Hermione beats her to the punch.

“Did you spike our drinks on Minister Riddle’s orders?” Hermione presses. The Alpha’s eye twitches the slightest bit.

“No.” She drawls, bored. Hermione tilts her head, considering the facts. Either she’s resisting the _Veritaserum_, or she’s being truthful. She highly suspects the former, but Bellatrix Black is known for her unpredictability, and she’s a Slytherin to boot.

“Are you a Parselmouth?” Bellatrix asks.

“Yes. Do you know anyone else who is?”

“No.” Lie. Now Hermione knows the answer. Or maybe she doesn’t, and when Minister Riddle turns her into whatever he did in that cottage that’s another personality of Bellatrix. Damn, now Hermione doesn’t know what the truth is.

“Now why were you adopted?” Bellatrix’s causal question turns velvety. Hermione grits her teeth, her mouth opening, but no words come out. All that does, is a gurgle, as black with pulsating red and purple veins swamps her vision.

Blood rushes to her head, and screams threatening to break from her skull, and she spits some of it onto the floor. Convulsing, Hermione crashes forwards, smashing the glass table as the screams become real.

* * *

The sound of soft singing lifts Hermione up from the darkness. Fluttering sounds above her, and feathers caress her face. The singing continues, and she instinctively recognizes Eto’s voice. It’s been so long since the Veela Alfā has sung for her in Velian.

»How was your rest?« Eto’s voice gently asks, running her fingers through Hermione’s hair.

»Dreamless.« She replies truthfully. Eto hums in her head, in tune with her singing.

»You can open your eyes, Petite Présage, [Little Omen,]« Eto murmurs, and Hermione does, seeing Eto’s eye looking down at her warmly.

»I’m not that little any more,« Hermione mumbles, and Eto smirks.

»You’ll always be little to me.« She brushes her fingers across Hermione’s forehead.

“Forgive me, but there are matterz that muzt be taken care of promptly,” Eto says aloud, and Hermione nods, sitting up with Eto’s help. She looks around, seeing a large shadow clinging to the black wall of the Black tent.

“Lady Black,” She murmurs, and Eto smiles viciously. She turns to face the Alpha, casting Bellatrix’s form in a soft, white glow from her eye.

“Yez, _Lady Black_, approach,” Eto hisses, Bellatrix walking forwards stiffly. Hermione glances between Eto and Bellatrix, eyes wary.

“Lady Black alerted me of your ztate nine dayz ago,” Eto whispers conspiringly. Hermione gasps. What did Bellatrix trigger inside her? The Alpha steels herself, and stretches out her hand. Eto motions for Hermione to take it. She does.

“I, Bellatrix Druella Black, swear an _Unbreakable_ _Vow_ to never at any point of time never endeavor to kill Hermione Eto Mendonica and shall protect her until I die.” Her eyes widen. Eto lays her wand over their hands.

“I accept your oath, and I swear the same to you.” Hermione replies, and a ring of fire forms like an infinity ring around their arms. Seeping into their magic, binding until their deaths. Bellatrix releases her hand, eyeing Hermione with something akin to respect before it is replaced with cool indifference.

The white glow from Eto’s eye flickers brighter in her displeasure, but it fades back to it’s usual color. With the pomp and fanfare over, Bellatrix disappears further into her black tent, leaving Eto and Hermione alone.

»What did you tell the family?« Hermione asks.

»That you were bonding with your new, interesting friend.« Eto replies.

* * *

The days pass faster after the making the Vow. Hermione and Bellatrix have crossed the barrier of acquaintanceship to platonic friendship. Hermione’s family and the Delacour siblings were not amused by Hermione’s sudden disappearance, or by the new relationship between Hermione and Bellatrix. Elise is really shaken up by it.

“Hermione, Black is forty-three for Merlin’s sake!” Hermione holds in a sigh. Elise paces in her room. She idly wonders when her friends are going to arrive.

“So?”

“She’s a very high ranking British Ministry Alpha!”

“You work for the Ministry, Elise.” Hermione says, turning to face the Beta woman standing in her room. Elise just sighs, wrapping Hermione up in one of her signature hugs. It’s effect is not lessened by the fact that Hermione towers over her.

“I just don’t want to see her hurt you,” Elise mumbles, and Hermione pats her back. It occurs to Hermione that while Bellatrix might not be able to maim her with the entent to kill, that still leaves a lot of leeway for torture. The Châttillions all wish to stay away from the politics of being friends with the Head of DMLE Bellatrix Black.

Hermione’s just glad that Eto is on her side, explaining the situation to a still confused Elise and an angry Juin.

“Lady Black can provide what my daughter’s pack and schoolmates cannot.” Eto said cryptically.

“Head Black works for the _British Ministry,_ what can she do for Hermione?” Elise had answered.

“Zhe iz an anomaly; a catalyzt for Hermione in wayz no one elze can be.” Eto said with a finality to her voice. The tension against Bellatrix lowers, easing up in an unsaid truce. However, as the days go by and more campers arrive, she spends less time chatting over tea and more time doing her actual job.

And so Hermione spends more time with her nieces and the Delacour siblings, playing. They now have to always go out in pairs, and take turns prowling amongst the Wizarding people in the Veela version of Capture-the-Flag. The “flags” are the wizards or witches who they will practice their Thrall on.

This game keeps the Veela entertained during the first week of the QWC. Interspaced in the games are hunts, play fighting, and pranks. They usually prank the Wizarding people, although sometimes they declare prank wars on each other. Bellatrix is always there to clean up their collateral damage, pissed off at being reduced to doing such a menial task.

Sometime during the third week, a large gaggle of Annie and Claire’s friends from Beauxbatons show up. The twins introduced Hermione to them briefly, but most of the girls wouldn’t stop giggling at her. They draw the twins away from Hermione and Abby, and Hermione feels a possessive, tightening coil in her chest.

Abby places a hand on her arm, subtly emitting calming Omega pheromones. The coil loosens, and Hermione shakes her head mentally.

»They’re really popular at school and have their own flocks. It’s okay to feel this way.« Abby comforts. Taking deep breaths, she and Abby leave Annie and Claire to their friends. They’re quickly joined by the Delacour siblings, Tarwin weaving her arm around Hermione’s.

* * *

Walking about the camp, they see that the Irish supporters have charmed their tents green, all decorated with thousands of plants and flowers. The Veela specially like that touch. The Bulgarian supporters have plastered the same poster of a scowling faced Alpha Victor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker, all over their tents.

A flash of silvery-blond hair flickers in the corner of her eyes, and Hermione looks at it, heart beating a little faster than usual. Staring at an empty spot between two tents, a sour taste in her mouth grows.

»Hermione?« Abby calls, eyes curiously flicking to where Hermione’s staring. Jogging to catch up, she smiles away the Omega’s questioning look. Soon, Hermione starts to recognize more and more Hogwarts students as the Cup creeps closer, although none recognize her.

On top of not being recognized, she keeps seeing those little glimpses of silvery-blond hair. It’s almost driving her mad with frustration, something that Abby and the Delacour siblings have picked up on.

The day before the Cup, Hermione’s lying amongst the living pile of Veelas. The Delacour siblings, her nieces, and she herself are tangled together, relaxing as they lie on top of each other. She’s reading, or trying to at least, as her mind keeps combing over her memories of glimpses of silvery-blond hair.

When Bellatrix storms into the tent, she gives up her pretense of reading and shuts the book.

“Where’s Madame Mendonica?” Bellatrix hisses, black eyes sweeping over them and landing on Hermione.

“Unavailable at the moment,” Juin says tightly.

»Hermione get off your ass, I have no time to deal with this beast.« Comes the Veela Alpha’s sharp voice a second later. She’s using a direct link.

“Well—when shall she be back?” Bellatrix growls.

— . —

_Stupefy_ = Stunning Spell

_Obliviate_ = Memory Charm

_Extensio_ = Extension Charm (Latin: Extension)

_Forces one to speak the truth_ = Veritaserum Potion 2x

_One witch or wizard makes an oath to another, if either of the two break their terms, they die_ = Unbreakable Vow


	12. Summer For The Luck Of The Irish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione meets Fleur again and has a better second impression!

»I thought you were the Heiress—« Hermione starts.

“Later,”

»I have to deal with the arrival of the Bulgarian Veela. Souci is with her fellow Italian Veela. _You_ deal with _your_ ally.« Juin scathingly snaps.

“However, Hermione may lend her assistance,” Juin dismisses, walking back to her room. Sighing, Hermione wriggles her way out from the Veela pile, brushing herself off. Bellatrix merely scowls, but pivots on her heel to leave and Hermione follows. They quickly make their way through the maze of tents, and many wizards and witches quickly part the way for them.

The danger of the infamous House Black temper precedes them it seems.

Keeping silent, they approach a grand tent, a large, fat wizard sitting in a chair in front of it. His jolly laughter contrasts with the sterner, pinch faced wizard next to him. They both turn to see Bellatrix, and the fat Beta stands up quickly. Thrusting out his hand, he grabs Hermione’s shaking it profusely.

Her minimal respect for him lowers due to his repulsive scent. Forgoing curtesy, Hermione yanks back her hand, wrinkling her nose. Doesn’t he know what a shower is?

“A real treat to meet you Miss Mendonica! Why, the Department has been singing your praises, being the youngest and most brilliant Seeker in Hogwarts history!” He cries, reaching forwards again to tak her hand, and Hermione is pulled back by Bellatrix.

“She’s not one of yours, _Bagman_.” She spits, and the other wizard eyes Hermione with critical eyes. At once, she can scent his Alpha on him, for he’s cleverly sending out his pheromones in small waves At least he doesn’t rush to take her hand. Bagman looks flustered for a second, before regaining his posture.

“Besides, it was only one game,” Bellatrix scoffs.

“Oh? Are you tagging her for your Department?” He asks. Bellatrix rolls her eyes at him.

“Beta Ludovric Bagman.” She grunts, introducing them. The Alpha man steps forwards, and holds out his hand.. Hermione takes it, and he bows respectfully low as he kisses the back of her hand softly.

“Greetings Lady Mendonica, I bid you welcome to England on behalf of the Head Department of International Magical Cooperation, I am Alpha Bartemius Crouch Sr..” He says, and Bellatrix makes an approving sound.

Bartemius drops her hand, straightening. Looking down at the Alpha, her eyes widen slightly when she sees an older version of the young wizard in her third Skull Hookah vision. He takes her scrutiny unflinchingly, and all three of them ignoring Bagman’s background muttering.

So Bartemius Sr.’s son is in leagues with Minister Riddle. Hermione wonders if Bartemius Sr. knows and condones it, but considering the state Bartemius Jr. was in, she doubts the latter.

Bartemius Sr. gestures to Bagman.

“This is my . . . Partner for this night, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.” Bartemius Sr. manages to say this boastingly and snidely at the same time. Hermione hides a smirk, smiling politely.

“It is a honor to meet such important individuals such as yourselves.” She says, stroking their egos. It works, and Bellatrix snorts. Bagman conjures up two more chairs, and they discuss the inner workings of all the logistics into running the Cup. Bartemius Sr. and Bellatrix spend most of that conversation interrupting Bagman when he starts to reveal Ministry techniques.

Their talk continues all the way to dusk, leaving Hermione still waiting for the explanation of her presence. Bagman checks his watch, and jumps to his feet.

“Great Scott! I have to meet with Lucius in five minutes!” He exclaims, bustling off without even a goodbye. Bartemius Sr. scowls at Bagman’s retreating back. The Beta simply has no subtlety and respect for titles. He turns to Hermione and Bellatrix.

“Lady Black, will you discuss what we agreed upon with Lady Mendonica? I must see after my partner,” He stands, eyes already tracking the Beta. Bellatrix sneers, waving him off.

“Pardon me Lady Black, Lady Mendonica,” He bows swiftly, and hurries after Bagman. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Bellatrix asks:

“Can you control other Veela?”

Hermione stares at her.

“It’s entirely possible,” She replies slowly. They stand.

“Make it possible—if your mother doesn’t show, I’m going to need you to wrangle any unruly Veela,” Bellatrix growls. Hermione raises her eyebrow.

“You could always talk to a Veela Madame, since Veela will listen to them better rather than a stranger like me.” Hermione offers, but Bellatrix waves her off.

“Just see to it that they behave,” She growls, stalking away. Hermione, alone, suddenly realizes how open it is to be by herself. She remembers Juin saying the Bulgarian Veela are arriving today, so Bellatrix’s concern makes sense. At least half the Cadres are here, all grouped together. She thinks even the Matriarch herself is here as well.

Feeling the increasing stares, Hermione gets up, scenting the air for the nearest Veela group. Making a beeline towards the group, she makes sure her Thrall wrapped up tight inside her. The scent of other Veela increases, and she spots a cluster of large tents staked up tightly together in a circle.

Vaguely, she realizes she’s never been around other Veela Cadre by herself. The Irish Veela’s collective pheromones waft towards her, subtly different from the French Veela Cadre’s. Taking a breath, Hermione’s about to signal her presence when a sharp voice hisses:

»What are _you_ doing here?«

* * *

Hermione whirls around, staring down at incensed, beautiful cerulean-blue eyes. Fleur Delacour crosses her arms, her silvery-blond hair pulled up tight in a bun. She’s the epitome of beauty, and Hermione can’t help but stare as her heart pounds. This stunning, gorgeous, aggressive Veela Alpha is the one she’s been hunting all this time. She’s magnificence, she’s grace, she’s—pissed.

Beside Delacour, is an Irish Veela Omega. While her exotic French counterpart is clad in simple, yet sexy, dark green robes, the Veela Omega only wears a plain white shift with a green belt. Hermione’s eyes narrow on the Omega, a growl threatening to gurgle out from her chest.

»Forgive my friend, she’s a little tense—although I am curious as to why a French Alpha’s here,« The Veela Omega says, her Irish accent prominent even in Velian. Hermione blinks, and reality of Dleacour’s hate for her crashes down around her ears. Delacour looks like she ate a lime and saw a roach. She takes a breath to center herself.

»I found myself alone, and you were the closest Veela group near me.« Hermione replies truthfully, breathing shallowly through her mouth as not inhale Delacour’s heavenly scent.

»You’re welcome to join us, we don’t get that many French visitors! I’m Omega Kate Duceau, and this is Alpha Fleur Delacour, but it seems you two already know each other . . . ?« Kate trails off, glancing with hazel-green eyes at Delacour. The Veela Alpha merely narrows her eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

Slowly following Kate inside the tent, she and Delacour avoid each other’s eyes as they pass each other. Inside, they immediately catch the attention of the other Irish Veela.

»Kate? Who’s this?« A Veela Alpha demands, stalking towards them. She shares the same eyes as Kate, and Hermione correctly surmises she’s a relative.

»Relax Katie, she’s friends with Fleur—«

»We’re not friends!«

Hermione and Delacour interrupt at the same time, and side-stare at each other. Katie narrows her eyes, opening her mouth, but Kate beats her to it.

»Look cuz, just go back to your Beta alright? I’m sure—« Kate looks over to Hermione, an eyebrow raised.

»Alpha Hermione Eto Mendonica.« She says, deciding not to proclaim she’s really an Alfā. Kate nods.

»Yes—I’m sure Mendonica here won’t be a problem,« Kate says cheerfully, while Katie’s eyes bug out. Their conversation cuts off, as Kate’s cousin switches to a private link. Letting the cousins argue it out, Hermione starts to explore the tent. Irish Veela watch her watch them, and she’s even offered a set of darts to play a round with a number of Omega’s.

Relaxing around the Irish Veela, Hermione can’t help up sense Delacour’s prowling at the edges of the darts group, her expression growing more and more sour the longer that Hermione stays. The Deceau cousins pause in their argument when the cheers from the Omega’s gets louder, and Hermione smirks as she lands another bullseye. The Alpha’s and Beta’s are watching on the sidelines.

»Oh, maybe you’ll beat Fleur’s high score!« Kate snickers, sticking out her tongue at the Veela Alpha when Delacour glares at her.

»Can you shoot when I do this?« An Omega laughs behind her, reaching up to wrap her hands around Hermione’s eyes. Blinded, she takes a deep breath. Letting her muscle memory do the work for her, she throws. A cheer rises up, and a few Omega’s latch onto her arms, the one behind her, skipping away, giggling.

They pull her to the floor, and many hands start weaving flowers into her hair and around her limbs. Hermione hears Delacour growl frustratedly, but she doesn’t care that the Veela Alpha storms out of the Irish tent with Kate looking after with a confused expression.

* * *

Hermione loses track of time talking to and indulging the Irish Veela’s whims, that by the time she realizes she should leave, it’s well past midnight.

»You should stay! Fleur almost never ends up staying,« Kate bounces up and down at the thought. Katie huffs, trying to stare Hermione down.

»I’ll allow it—but you’re sleeping with _me_.« She growls, going over to her things. Kate laughs.

»Oh cuz! Who knew you could be so direct!« She teases, and Katie scowls.

»Shut up!« She hisses, and throws two sleeping bags on the floor. The few Irish Veela still awake watch with drowsy interest, and the Veela Omega who covered her eyes from before yawns against Hermione’s side. Gently lying the Veela Omega next to one of her friends, Hermione claims one of the sleeping bags. Katie’s already in the other.

As soon as she gets horizontal, Kate plops down on her other side, her cousin glaring at her over Hermione’s body, but refrains from speaking. After the torches are blown out, in the darkness, they shuffle together instinctively. Turning to face the nicer Deceau Veela, Hermione closes her eyes, letting sleep claim her.

* * *

»—dreamy and so _tall,_«

»Well duh, she’s a Mendonica lass, they’re bloody tall even for Veela,«

»Aw, she kept our flowers,«

»_Shh_—don’t wake her!«

»I want to touch her hair again,«

»Don’t be needy. You already got to yesterday,«

»By Rozanica, she smells so _good,_«

»Do you think she’d mind if I offered to lick her?«

»Perhaps. She comes off as an Alpha who’d like that,«

»WOULD YOU ALL _SHUT UP_ AND _SCRAM!_« Katie’s enraged roar scatters the Omega’s and Beta’s crowding around them. Hermione blinks, sitting up blearily. Kate just groans loudly and rolls over as Katie huffs and puffs around the now empty tent.

»My cousin isn’t a morning lass, so you should probably take to the winds.« Kate yawns, speaking in a private link. Hermione nods, and silently slips out of the Irish Veela’s tent. She stealthily evades the Irish Veela hanging around outside when she hears them speculating about the likelihood of her being a sub in bed.

Making her way through the thick morning fog that the sun’s weak rays cast in a soft golden glow, Hermione arrives back at her tent in no time. The first to spot her is Err’sh circling from above, and he whistles quietly in greeting. The rest of her family come into view; Souci reclining on a chair overseeing Claire, Abby, Asair, and Tarwin who had built a campfire while Annie and Monisel linger behind them with dead weasels.

When they catch sight of Hermione, wreathed in crushed flowers, her nieces leap on her. Quickly answering their questions, she looks over to Souci, spotting the relief hidden in her eyes. They pull her to the campfire, and the roasting of weasels begins. They tell her that Juin left to accomplish whatever Eto had to do, Elise and Federico left to visit the HolyHead Harpies team, and Eto is still missing.

Err’sh lands on the back of Souci’s chair, whistling eloquently for bone scraps. Soon the weasels are properly cooked, and they enjoy the delicacy of overpopulated weasel meat. Souci politely abstains from the feast.

»Oh great, here comes a Wizarding family,« Monisel groans, and they all look. Hermione’s eyes widen when she sees the Weasley’s, Potter’s, and Harold. There’s another redhead Alpha she’s never seen before, but guesses he must be Bill Weasley. He’s tall, his long red hair wrapped up in a messy ponytail, a dangly dragon tooth earring, and rock concert clothes, and dragon hide boots.

The other Veela’s ignore the wizards and witches, eating as they chatter in Velian. Hermione however keeps her eye on her friends, Harold constantly glancing over at her with narrowed eyes.

»Hey, is your control alright?« Abby whispers, placing her hand on Hermione’s arm. She nods.

»Yes. Some of them are part of my pack,« Hermione replies, and Abby looks at the wizards and witches with surprise.

»Really? Your flock?« Annie asks, looking skeptically at them.

»Who’s that?« Tarwin looks down the hill. Hermione turns, smiling a bit when she sees Luna happily skipping towards them. The Gamma bounces right up to Hermione, jumping into her lap and snuggling up against her chest. Claire drops her ferret in shock.

“Oi! Luna! What are you doing?!” Harry calls out.

“You’ve grown.” Luna says dreamily, ignoring Harry, and all the Veela’s bewildered expressions. Hermione smiles brighter.

“I knew it! Hey Lurch, did ya get a growth spurt or something?!” Harold scrambles to his feet, trotting over. He picks up on the tension he brings from the Veela, faltering. Hermione stands—Luna still clinging to her front—and his eyes grow wide.

“Bloody hell Lurch, you’re _really_ tall now,” Harold mumbles, and she clasps him on the back.

“Where’s Neville?” She asks, and he recovers from his staring.

“Eh, somewhere here I suppose, he’ll be sitting with Luna and I—oh, hey, er, are these your sisters?” Harold glances at the Veela, blushes, and looks away. Souci closes her book with a snap, her eyes appraising a fidgeting Harold.

»I think I like this one,« Souci muses, Abby jerking her head towards her mother.

»Really? I thought you just liked Papa,«

The Delacour siblings snicker at that.

»Well, at least he doesn’t stare that much,« Asair says, ripping out a bite of weasel. Hermione realizes she’s been silent listening to a conversation that Harold can’t hear.


	13. Summer Of Backward Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the game is great and all, what Hermione's really looking forwards to is catching her Veela!

“Souci is my aunt, Abby, Annie, and Claire are my nieces, and Monisel, Tarwin, and Asair are . . . House Vassals.” Harold nods, his confusion clear on his face. The Weasley’s and Potter’s are attempting to set up their brown tent. Compared to the Mendonica’s and Black’s, it looks shabby and small.

“Pardon uz, child, eet eez alwayz a pleazure to meet one of Hermione’z flock,” Souci says in her thick French accent. She stands, and Harold gulps, looking down.

»Girls, let’s go find your mother’s so we may claim our seats—not you Hermione, you seat has already been taken care of,« Souci orders, her family gets ready to walk to the stadium.

“You should stand under waterfalls more often, it’ll clear you head,” Luna says airily to her aunt. The Veela Alpha glances at the Gamma, then tilts her head in acknowledgement, then leads the others away. Hermione snuffs the fire out with a snap of her fingers.

“Well that was weird,” Harold mutters, yelping when she cuffs his head lightly.

“I’m just saying!”

Rolling her eyes playfully, they walk over to the Weasley’s and Potter’s, who have gotten a small fire going. Harry recognizes Hermione with Harold and Luna by her sides, giving her a smile. Ron’s jaw just drops. She tunes out the rest of the Weasley’s, noticing Bill and Charlie’s ogling her. Checking her Thrall, she makes sure it’s tightly secured in her.

Just as they sit down, Luna automatically climbs into her lap, and Hermione hears the loud greeting call of Bagman. Looking over her shoulder, she also sees the irritated Bartemius Sr. and Bellatrix trailing the Beta.

“Oh ho! Miss Mendonica! What a surprise—gah!” Bagman’s cut off from racing to shake her hand by Bellatrix tripping him. Ignoring the floundering Beta, Hermione nods to Bartemius Sr.’s bow, and makes room for Bellatrix to sit next to her. Luna doesn’t care when Bellatrix glares at her, smiling in that way of hers.

“Some days I just want to _Crucio_ that Beta to insanity,” Bellatrix mutters in Hermione’s ear, ignoring the suspicious faces of the others.

“That would hurt.” Luna says dreamily.

“And ill advised,” Hermione mutters back, but the Alpha just chuckles.

“So? I’m the Head of the DMLE, I can pardon myself.”

“That would be an abuse of power.”

“I have power, why not use it?”

“Corruption of government officials perhaps?”

“You want to know what’s ‘ill advised’? Letting Fatman _bet_ with them,” Bellatrix nods to where Bagman and the Weasley twins exchange Galleons, much to Percy’s horror. Bartemius Sr. tries to keep Bagman on a leash, but without Bellatrix, he’s failing. When Bagman starts to speak of the event happening at Hogwarts, Bellatrix cuts him off with a light hex.

Scowling, Bartemius Sr. pulls Bagman away, angrily whispering into the flailing Beta’s ear. Bellatrix snickers when Bartemius Sr. calls over his shoulder.

“Weatherby! I expect you to uphold the Department’s good reputation!”

“I’ve promoted you to the Top Box, got it?” The Alpha murmurs softly, and Hermione nods.

* * *

At dusk, Hermione and her friends make their way to the stadium, and they join the large throng of wizards and witches. Harry buys them each their own Omnioculars, much to the saleswizard’s shock. On the lantern lit forest path, they bump into Neville, his parents, and his Gran. The Omega lights up when he sees the other Revols, running to them.

Now complete, the Revols pull ahead of the others a bit, listening to the wizards and witches around them. Behind her, Hermione hears Arthur explaining how the stadium is made. At one of the many entrances, the Ministry worker’s eyes widen when she sees Hermione. Releasing a little of her Thrall, Hermione watches the Beta woman’s eyes turn glassy.

“I love you,” She drools. Harold and Neville’s jaws drop at the proclamation.

“Oi—knock it off,” Harold snaps his fingers in front of the Beta, she blinking out of her stupor.

“Er—yes—sorry—erm—Potter’s and Lady Mendonica Top Box. Weasley’s and company, Second Box,” She stutters, looking down. Hermione twirls a tendril of her Thrall laced with her Alfā pheromones towards the Beta.

“Ma’m, may I bring my three friends with me? It’ll be so lonely up in the Top Box,” She purrs, and the Beta agrees breathlessly. Touching the Beta’s arm in thanks, she guides a bewildered Harold and Neville towards the stairs, Luna happily humming her tune.

“I didn’t think that would work,” Neville mutters. At the end of the long climb, the Top Box is filled with twenty fancy, plush chairs in two rows of ten. They’re right between two goal posts of the oval stadium. In the front row in the second closest seat from the stairs, Poppy sits with her hands over her face. Probably saving seat one for Bellatrix.

Hermione walks to the fifth seat with her name on it the middle of the front row, while Luna, Harold, Neville, and Harry sit right behind her in seats fourteen to seventeen. Lily takes the third seat in the front with Hermione. No sooner do they settle down, Minister Riddle, the Bulgairian Minister Obalinsk, Bellatrix, Bagman, and Bartemius Sr. arrive.

Poppy hops up, Bartemius Sr. takes her seat while the Elf stands at the end of the row. The Ministers take seats nine and ten at the other end of the front row, and unfortunately Bagman plops himself down in seat five. Bellatrix slouches in seat six on Hermione’s other side, almost becoming a living shadow.

Three more walk into the box: Lord Malfoy, Narcissa, and Draco. Lord Malfoy claims seat eight next to Minister Riddle, while Narcissa daintily sits in the last seat beside her husband in the front row. She merely sighs at her sister’s posture. Draco takes seat thirteen next to Harry, chatting animatedly about his summer.

A shift of blond to her right, and she notices Narcissa’s penetrating glare.The Omega’s eyes keep flicking from her son and his obvious elongated ‘s’ sounds and then to Hermione, accusation clear as day in her body posture. Hermione tilts her head, giving the Omega woman a neutral look.

“—ssee I tried to get the resst of the Sslytherinss in the pack up here, but there weren’t enough sseatss,” Draco tells Harry, and Harold leans in.

“Say, I forgot to ask; when did you get a lisp?” The Beta asks, and Harry asks as well. Draco’s already pale face pales a bit further. Narcissa is likewise listening in, even though she’s speaking with Lord Malfoy.

“I . . .” He looks at Hermione, who raises an eyebrow. Draco gulps.

“Remember when I . . . Ssaid that sslur, the one about Mugglebornss?” The Alpha starts, and a flash of anger crosses Harry’s face.

“Bloody hell I do,” Harry growls. Draco bow his head.

“I’m ssorry I did. My behavior wass corrected.” He apologizes, and the Gryffindor Alpha’s shocked. Harold narrows his eyes, opening his mouth, but Bagman moves to stand in front of his chair with his wand at his throat.

≠ “_Sonorus!_ Ladies and gentlemen . . . Welcome! Welcome to the final of the four-hundred-and-twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” ≠ The crowd roars, and the banners showing the adds now turns into the scoreboard. The boys turn, and Draco’s situation is forgotten.

≠ “And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . The Bulgarian National Team Mascots!” The right half of the stadium stands, ≠ a sea of scarlet screaming their heads off. Hermione closes her eyes, breathing deeply as a hundred Bulgarian Veela steam out into the field.

Above the roar of Wizarding voices, she tunes into the chatter of voices in Velian. Opening her eyes, she watches the dance, the crowd rearing up at the display. Hermione has to yank Harold, Neville, and Harry away from the railing a few times. Looking back at Draco—unlike his struggling father—the Alpha has the most terrified expression on, pressing as far as he can into the back of his chair.

The other men not affected are the Ministry officials. The dancing Veela leave, and then the Irish Mascots, the Leprechauns, come out. The Bulgarian team is announced first, with Chaser Dimitrov, Chaser Ivanova, Keeper Zograf, Chaser Levski, Beater Vulchanov, Beater Volkov, and Seeker Krum. The air vibrates at the cheers and stamping of Krum’s name.

The Irish are next; Beater Connolly, Keeper Ryan, Chaser Troy, Chaser Mullet, Chaser Moran, Beater Quiqley, and Seeker Lynch. Hermione has her Omnioculars up as the game starts. All fourteen of them are professionals, flying like deadly schools of fish. It’s a rough match, as the Irish pummel the Bulgarians with a thirty-ten score.

Hermione grimaces, keeping her Omnioculars on real time. The Irish pull ahead to one-hundred-thirty-to-ten points, and the game starts to get increasingly foul. Everyone is yelling, Bagman shouting his commentary. Even Bellatrix is hooked. Hermione keeps a sharp eye on the annoyed Veela, as fouls are called left and right.

The referee blows his whistle madly. Both teams are merciless, and the crowd feeds on the heightening tension. The tipping point is when the Leprechauns form a crude hand gesture, which riles all the Veela in the stadium. Hermione inhales sharply, her eyes narrowed. When a few start to shift into their true forms, she acts.

»_Stand down!_« Hermione’s orders in her Alfā voice, and it echoes out in Velian. All the Veela in the stadium obey instantly, submissively shuffling back, their eyes roaming instinctively to show obedience to the dominant voice. Hermione thinks she catches Annie and Claire’s smug voices, but she isn’t sure.

The match goes on, and at one point Hermione orders a few Veela to cut off their Cursed Fire. Suddenly, Lynch and Krum both dive, both equally bloody and unwilling to relent. Hermione watches as one pulls up, a Golden Snitch in his fingers, and the other smashes into the ground.

However Ireland wins one-hundred-seventy-to-one-hundred-sixty. Bagman announces the victory lap, as the Top Box is suddenly flooded with blinding lights. Through her slitted eyes, Hermione can see the hundreds of Omnioculars shining their way. The Quidditch Cup, carried by two Alpha wizards, is set it down in front of a standing Minister Riddle.

Both teams walk into the box, stinking of sweat, blood, and bruised ego. All the boys are going gaga over the famous players. Minister Riddle announces the losers, and then the winners. When the Irish lift the Cup high, the green clad side stands with exploding cheers.

All the players line up to shake hands with the Minister, and the Bulgarian team is directed into the last row. The Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova catches Hermione’s attention, and the Alpha winking in her direction. Huffing at the flirty Alpha, she turns back to face Bagman. Krum gets an earsplitting cheer.

The Irish lead another victory lap, and Bagman mutters the _Quieting Charm_, turning to the twins with a slightly nervous, downtrodden face. He looks nervous, muttering about the bet he made with the Weasley twins. Hermione stands when Bellatrix grabs her wrist to drag her to the shadowy back wall of the Top Box.

“Poppy!” Bellatrix hisses, and the Elf scampers over to them, offering her hand. Bellatrix takes one, and they’re gone in a pop.

* * *

Reappearing next to the exit where all the Veela are being herded out of, Hermione scowls.

“Stay with them, I don’t want pissed off Veela making my job bloody harder,” Bellatrix growls, using Poppy to Apparate her elsewhere. If she wasn’t paying attention to the Veela, she would of applauded Bellatrix’s resourcefulness around the _Anti-Disapparition Jinx_. Hermione strides towards the Veela, when she sees an Alpha wizard grab an Irish Veela’s arm.

Snarling silently, Hermione stalks up to him, blasting her Thrall at the Alpha. He lets out a shriek, reels backwards. The Irish Veela stumbles back, and Hermione kicks the Alpha’s legs out from under him, sneering. Looking around, she summons a beer bottle lying on the ground. Pouring some on him, she drops the bottle next to him.

Stepping over his body, Hermione looks up at the Irish Veela, recognizing Kate. Nodding towards the spooked Veela Omega, Hermione watches Katie swoop in and corral Kate further into the Veela throng. Keeping to the sidelines, she shadows the Veela back to their tents. Err’sh appears, circling above her.

*There’s a Veela straggler,* He whistles as he flies by, continuing to escort the Veela from above. Hermione turns, ready to point out where the main group has gone, but her voice cuts flat. Fleur Delacour stops when she sees Hermione, and she straightens her spine, dropping her crossed arms.

They stare at each other, the background sound of the Irish celebrating filling the space between them. Delacour takes a breath, then speaks.

»I . . . Apologize,« She grits out, as if the words physically pain her. Hermione raises her eyebrows, and crosses her arms. The Veela Alpha looks even more stunning when she’s angry.

»Whatever for?« Hermione drawls, and Delacour grinds her teeth angrily.

»I . . . My past actions . . . Were uncalled for.« She forces out each word as if they’re being choked out of her. Her fingers twitch by her sides, and Hermione tilts her head. She’s heard about the “better” progressive Veela families creating a distance between them and their inner Veela’s. Perhaps Delacour’s true Veela side is more separated from herself than Hermione originally thought.

»Would you be opposed to continuing this conversation inside?« She asks,and Delacour purses her lips.

»I wouldn’t mind,« She says slowly, following Hermione warily as they commandeer an empty tent. Sitting across from each other, Delacour avoids Hermione’s searching gaze.

»This changes nothing—I still dislike you.« The Veela Alpha says abruptly, and Hermione straightens. Her words are blunt to the point, but nonetheless they cut deeper than she thought they would.

»You know, I could tolerate the fact that you’re a righteous bitch—« Cue Delacour’s growl. »—however, the thing is you’re being a petty bitch, which is honestly nauseating.« Hermione says curtly, and Delacour works her jaw silently.

»So, I don’t accept your apology.« At this, Delacour bares her teeth, snarling, but Hermione glimpsed a flicker of fear in her eyes.

»_No_.« Comes the feral growl. Hermione just watches as the Veela Alpha struggles with herself, fighting an inevitable battle.

»Well, it seems _she_ doesn’t agree with my statement,« Hermione says dryly, and Delacour surprises her. Faster than her eyes could perceive, Delacour pins Hermione to the tent floor, half-formed talons digging into her shoulders and sharp hips pressing heavily against hers.

— . —

_Crucio_ = Unforgivable Cruciatus Curse

_Sonorus!_ = Amplifying Charm

_Quietus_ = Quieting Charm

_Contrarium_ _Spectrum_ = Anti-Disapparition Jinx (Latin: Opposite Apparition)


End file.
